


Just Nightmares

by Rolly_chan



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Allison Lives, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not season/series 4 compliant, Pack Feels, Post-Nogitsune, Stiles Has Nightmares, it has a bit of plot I swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-02-18 18:25:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2357783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rolly_chan/pseuds/Rolly_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Almost a year after the nogitsune, Stiles's nightmares return with a high frequency about at the same time that people start dying from supernatural forces. Then there are also Stiles's not-feelings for a certain sourwolf. Life, as always, has the worst timing ever.</p><p>This is yet unedited, but I will get to it once it's done. Since I'm posting the parts of it anyway for a Summer Challenge that's ending in a few days, I guessed it would be okay to post it already.</p><p>Update(12. Aug): I'm finally almost finished with this. Expect the last chapter to be uploaded in a couple days if not tomorrow already :) sorry for the long wait everyone!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Er, yeah, I don't know. I got that idea quite a while ago and started writing scenes for the prompts of the Summer Challenge over at the 120_minuten livejournal community. It's pretty much just an accumulation of angsty nightmares, lots of pack-feels hurt/comfort stuff and Sterek-romance. With a teeny tiny bit of plot. Oh, and Allison lives and Isaac stayed, though Isaac won't really play a big role in this.
> 
> 31/10 - To everyone wondering why I'm not updating this: I am still working on it! I'm just very (VERY) swamped with university stuff (because I'm barking mad and am now studying psychology AND English Studies/History AND am still doing my work experience thing for psychology). As of now I have written one and a half more scenes (my scenes are around 1k words long and I had planned on putting around 5-6 scenes in the last chapter), so you see, it's a slow progress. I'm sorry for the wait, but thank you all who bookmarked and gave kudos! You're awesome and make my days! I'll definitely finish this, just be a little patient with me.

_A certain type of darkness is stalling me_  
 _Under a quiet mask of uncertainty_  
 _I wait for light like water from the sky_  
 _And I am lost again_  
 _(Christina Perri – Sea of Lovers)_

  
Stiles slithered over the linoleum floor, soundless like a ghost. The moon was in his back, casting almost translucent white patches of light over the walls, leaving everything else in nebulous shadows. They moved like the souls of the dead reaching for him, and suddenly a chill overcame him, making him freeze to the bones.

He knew he didn't want to be here, he wanted to go home or at least turn on the lights. So he turned towards the wall and pressed the switch there. It didn't work. There was only a spark at the end of the hall where a lone light flickered, flashes of red spreading from it like a warning. His heart started to thump in sync with them, both accelerating fast. Everything inside Stiles tensed and he pressed himself against the wall for support, but the shadows swallowed it and the next moment, Stiles was in utter darkness, only disturbed by flashes of red like blood exploding in his face. He flinched away every time but was unable to escape, trapped in nothingness.

Then he saw Scott with his familiar smile and encouraging glint in his brown human eyes. He was so close, and for fleeting moment Stiles felt relieved, because it was Scott, his best friend and brother, who would get him out of here, because Scott always saved the day. But then Scott's face contorted in pain, split-seconds before an icy dread caught Stiles, sending violent shivers down his body, but when he looked down, his arms and hands held steady, fingers curled around the cold shaft of a knife that grew into a sword at Stiles's eyes meeting the silver blade reflecting his own face. It displayed a cruel, twisted smile, with too much sadistic glee too much joy over pain, while Stiles wanted to frown but couldn't.

He wanted to pull back, take the sword out of Scott's stomach so he could heal, but his body didn't obey. The silver of the blade slowly turned red as it soaked up the blood, beading red and so prominent against Scott's ashen skin.

There was a twisted sort of pleasure in his chest, but at the same time Stiles was screaming, screaming, screaming inside his mind...

_stop please stop_

But his body still wouldn't obey, the feeling of excitement inside him growing at the same time and with the same intensity as the dread, and his body relished in the strangled moan escaping Scott's lips as Stiles twisted the sword, slowly, drawing squelching sounds

_no please please stop don't hurt him_

he pushed the sword a further inch forward and laughed as Scott wheezed, blood bubbling crimson at the corner of his mouth, his hands buzzing with a pleasure that made him so ill

_don't please stop hurting him please I beg you_

but it never stopped and he kept grinning and twisting the sword and Stiles wanted to cry and wished for _something_ to just _kill him_ so he'd finally stop hurting his best friend... and there was a voice talking in the back of his mind, a deep slur that was frighteningly familiar

_Do not struggle against it, Stiles_ , it said, and then whispered, _Everyone has it but no one can lose it_.

The blade had completely turned crimson and when Stiles looked up into Scott's eyes, they flashed just as red, before they turned back to brown, then became unnaturally still...

... he threw himself off a mattress, there was a ringing noise in his ears and someone was screaming at the top of his lungs. Only when two strong arms wound around him and stopped his own from flailing did he realize that it was him who was screaming and that he had just woken from a nightmare. He shut his mouth.

"-iles, calm down. Hey... you're fine, it's okay," his father said firmly from behind him, still holding him tight. For a moment Stiles couldn't breathe and thought his heart would implode, but then he swallowed the slump in his throat and finally the pain in his chest subsided and he could take deeper breaths.

"It's okay, Stiles, I got you, you're fine," his father kept telling him, and Stiles willed himself to stomp back the panic attack crawling up on him. After a few more moments, he felt stable enough to give his father's arm a reassuring squeeze. He was still breathing heavily and his heart had yet to slow down, but at least he didn't feel like he'd die any minute now.

"'M fine, dad," he finally rasped out, his throat feeling very raw and he suddenly felt really thirsty, but his father squeezed him tight before hesitantly standing and helping his son to his feet. He looked at Stiles uncertainly, as if he didn't know what to do, and this time Stiles didn't know any better. He was admittedly still fuzzy in his head from sleep and his heart, though calmed a little, was still thudding out of control. It felt a little like recovering from kanima poison, and wasn't it just peachy that he knew how that felt.

"Just... need to sit down," he said finally and found himself being led to the bad and carefully pushed down on it, as if he couldn't have made the one step to reach it. He let it slide, though, mostly because he was more preoccupied with calming the fuck down.

"You okay, kiddo?" his dad asked and set down beside him, concerned look on his face, and it made Stiles feel guilty. The man had worried enough about him already. He didn't need Stiles to have more fits. So he forced a strained smile.

"Yeah, yeah... just a nightmare." His father gave Stiles's shoulder another squeeze at that and returned the smile. It was fortunate that his dad had known about the nightmares all along. Had known about them when they continued every night after the nogitsune was dealt with, until they became less and less frequent, decreasing in frequency at the same rate his body healed. But while they didn't plague him just as often any more, it didn't mean they were gone for good. And it wasn't beneath Stiles to use that fact in order to pacify his dad.

When his dad, sufficiently placated, left his room, Stiles noticed for the first time since he woke that it was already morning. Despite clouds hanging in the sky and obscuring the sun there was still some morning light filtering through his window, draining the color from the world and casting a layer of gray over everything. It was like Stiles was still in a dream. He shivered.

Because despite claiming everything was fine and it was just a nightmare... all his dreams about the nogitsune were pretty much real memories he relived. He had never had a disorganized nightmare like this about the nogitsune before.

 

* * *

Stiles huddled into the over-sized hoodie he had pulled on, crouching on his chair in front of his computer and sufficiently distracted by an old Futurama episode. He was glad the same old things still managed to get him out of it. He didn't feel cold any more, but he didn't want to get rid of the hoodie. It felt way too comfortable and he didn't give two shits about it being summer.

He had tried to ignore the weird nightmare, but after a while he had given up and just let his thoughts spin in all directions. Maybe the weirdness of it meant he had reached a new level of healing? But then again, this was Stiles, so it probably meant he was about to lose his mind. Maybe turn psychotic. It was a good thing his dad would never put him into Eichen House again. Which didn't mean other mental institutions weren't just as-

A knock on his window made him jump in his seat so violently that he almost dropped to the floor. Heart jumping out of his chest and a hand grasping at his hoodie just above it, he turned towards the culprit and scowled when he saw who it was.

"Derek!" he said an octave too high and cleared his throat. "The fuck, dude?" But he still walked over to the window and opened it to let him in, noticing how Derek raised his brows at the hoodie but choosing to ignore it. He shouldn't have overreacted like that when Derek's appearance was a totally mundane thing now. Even his dad didn't ask any questions anymore. Stiles guessed he was just a little jumpy from the nightmare. He hoped it would go away soon, like, right now, because it was kind of embarrassing.

"Stiles," Derek said and Stiles wondered how you could turn a name into a greeting so naturally. Must be Derek's broody sourwolf personality. He was wearing one of his leather jackets again - of course. Stiles didn't mind, though, it looked good on him.

"What brings your werewolf ass into my room this early in the day?" he couldn't resist asking, one corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk. He knew why Derek came, of course. He always came for research on something, because apparently, even Derek had realized at some point that Stiles's research skills were superior.

Derek did a thing with his brows and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Why are you wearing a hoodie? It's summer," Derek countered, and it actually was a valid question, Stiles knew that, but he really had no desire to discuss his sometime nightmares with Derek, of all people.

"Brilliant observation, Captain Obvious," Stiles said, still grinning. "It's comfortable," he added, though, just so Derek didn't throw him against any hard surfaces. He wouldn't mind Derek _pressing_ him against said hard surfaces, but he stopped himself from going there. His mind was seriously a dangerous place sometimes. Especially when it distracted him while Derek was scowling at him, which could potentially get him into a situation leading to bodily harm.

Derek turned his profile on Stiles when he turned towards the computer and Stiles could see him trying to inconspicuously sniff, probably to find out what was wrong with Stiles this time, wearing a hoodie and all. It was funny, but it was also annoying because Stiles seriously didn't need anyone _sniffing_ into his privacy.

"There have been some strange deaths your father asked me to look into."

"My dad told you but not me?" was out of Stiles's mouth before he could stop himself. It kind of hurt that his dad didn't trust him with this kind of information. But then again, his dad rarely trusted him with stuff like that, and rightfully so. He felt a pang of guilt for feeling hurt. The nogitsune had wreaked a clusterfuck of chaos in his body, so he couldn't really blame anyone for distrusting him.

"We met accidentally. He asked me to tell you," Derek corrected him and the relieve he felt shouldn't have been that much. Stiles cleared his throat.

"So..." He trudged over to his desk again and flopped back down on the chair, already opening up a new page to search for information. "What do you have?"

From the corner of his eye, Stiles could see Derek relax a little—probably because they had moved to a safe, no-nonsense, serious business topic. His shoulders fell the tiniest bit as if the tension just dropped off them, and he uncrossed his arms. A good sign.

"Suffocation, it smells undead, and all of the victims' relatives reported they had trouble breathing and panic attacks the nights before."

"Dude, suffocation and 'smells undead'? You'll need to give me more to work my magic," Stiles said, but already typed in 'supernatural suffocation'. The search results came up with Supernatural fanfiction for the first few entries, which was, to be honest, quite funny, because Stiles was sure their lives had become like Supernatural after the nogitsune, Monster of the Week and all that stuff, only without the driving around in an Impala.

"You heard about the Old Hag syndrome?", Stiles asked when he had finally found an entry that was not totally off-topic. He saw Derek shaking his head, still standing between the window and his desk awkwardly. It began to annoy Stiles. "Just—stop standing there and sit down."

Derek looked like he was about to argue, which he always did when Stiles told him to stop standing around like an idiot in his room—wasn't the first time and probably wouldn't be the last. In the end, he listened to Stiles anyway, and sat down on his bed. Out of his vision. Damn.

"Apparently, it's blamed on vampires, restless ghosts, night terror demons or witches," Stiles continued, then turned around, "Are vampires real?"

Derek threw a pillow at him and it hit Stiles's face with a plop, before it landed in his arms. "What? If werewolves are a thing..."

"Focus, Stiles."

Stiles sighed audibly and turned back again, skimming over the text. "It says it could also be a poltergeist—are those real?—or, oh my god—so-called _mara_ , who sexually assault people at night."

Stiles turned around again, trying to hold back a grin, because really? Sexual assaults? He only knew about succubi and incubi, but this was kind of awesome. If it weren't so terrifying.

"Stiles," Derek growled before he could even say anything, and it sounded threatening enough to him to keep his mouth shut. Which he managed for about three seconds.

"Are we dealing with a sex-crazy monster? Because if so—"

"It smells like you've been distressed," Derek interrupted, that sly bastard. He knew it would throw Stiles, and no matter how much Stiles didn't want it to, it still did.

"Just a nightmare," he tried the same thing as with his dad. Apparently, for whatever kind of funky reason, Derek also knew about his nightmares. Scott had probably told him, the traitor.

Derek raised one of his so very expressive brows, which may or may not have conditioned Stiles to roll his eyes. Of course Derek wouldn't take his shit. He was Derek, resident sourwolf. He had probably heard the uptick of his heart. Damn werewolves.

"Aaanyway." Stiles turned back around and read some more. "So, what about witches then? Restless ghosts? Anything that rings a bell?"

But Derek stayed silent, and Stiles started to become fidgety. Silence was so not Stiles's thing, and the lack of a response didn't really mean anything good. Either Derek didn't think it was any of those things Stiles had found, or he had an idea and just didn't think it necessary to tell Stiles. Wouldn't surprise him if it was the latter.

"Stiles, what happened?" Derek finally asked and Stiles almost fell off the chair again.

"Uh, nothing? I told you, it was a nightmare. I get them sometimes," he said and cursed himself for still feeling like lying, although it was technically the truth. Damn body that didn't listen to him.

When Stiles turned in his chair again and looked at Derek, he had stood up again, meeting Stiles's eyes with a serious look. He held Stiles's gaze for a long moment before shaking his head exasperatedly and walking over to the window again. "Call Allison and let me know when you find something."

And with that he was gone.

 

* * *

"We are probably dealing with vampires or witches," Derek said. He was standing in front and slightly to the side of his big flat-screen in his loft, looking at his pack mates with a serious expression on his face (and was it just Stiles or did his gaze linger on him?). Stiles knew already, of course, since he had been the one spending way too much time on the phone with Allison the other day. She had searched the bestiary for some info on all the supernatural things Stiles had found, and after discussing all the very unnerving information decided that the most likely culprit was either a witch or a vampire. Stiles voted for vampire, only because witches sounded much scarier and more powerful.

Glancing at her now, curled into Scott's side, and seeing how Scott was still inconspicuously brushing his thumb over the spot where the sword had hit her, Stiles felt the same old pang of guilt in his stomach, the one he'd had on the phone as well. He wasn't sure he'd ever stop feeling guilty for what had happened, even though he knew it hadn't been him who had stabbed her. She noticed his glance and Stiles quickly dropped his gaze to the floor.

"Vampires? They're real?" Isaac, currently sitting on the couch right beside Scott, arched his brow. It was pretty much the same reaction Stiles had, but Derek only threw an annoyed glance at him, not answering the question. It was probably rhetorical anyway.

"How do we find them?" Malia asked from next to Stiles on the floor. He was glad for her direct, blunt attitude in this moment, because he wished for the meeting to end as soon as possible. It wasn't that he was feeling the guilt of the nogitsune's actions a bit more today than usually, it was only... that he felt the guilt of the nogitsune's actions a bit more today. Especially after he'd had another nightmare. It didn't help that Lydia's legs were gently pushing into his back from where she was sitting on the chair behind Stiles and Malia. It felt like he didn't deserve the comfort she was still giving him. That everyone was, in some kind of way, still giving him.

"It won't be easy. Neither vampires nor witches look much different from normal humans. Vampires are a bit easier to spot, since they do avoid sunlight as much as possible, though it isn't lethal for them, and their skin is usually very pale compared to others. Witches are almost impossible to find if they don't want to be found," Allison threw in. She had been the one to research them, because Derek had been almost as clueless as everyone else.

"So we'll have to try and catch their scent?" Isaac asked again, hunching over a little and leaning his elbows on his knees. "Or is that not going to work on witches either?"

"As far as we know," Derek said, looking grim, "witches can hide their scent. Vampires, for the most part, smell undead, which it had smelt like when I was there."

Stiles hoped he was right. He really didn't want to deal with witches, who could curse the shit out of people. Vampires also had the advantage of not being able to enter without an invitation. Somehow, that made Stiles feel a tiny bit safer.

"Let's hope it's a vampire, then," Stiles said just to say something, because he was sure his silence didn't go by unnoticed. He had seen Scott and Derek throwing him furtive glances, Lydia had pushed her legs into his back so he could lean on them, even Isaac and Kira had once looked at him contemplatively. He didn't know whether or not Allison had spared him any weird looks, but that was because he hadn't dared—aside from that one glance—to look at her.

"I mean, the bestiary has confirmed that vampires can cause sleep paralysis, right? That could have been the cause for the suffocation. Maybe the vampire is exaggerating it," he tried to reason, because no matter how they looked at it, there just was no motive for either vampire or witch to start randomly killing people. Especially since vampires didn't need to kill their prey and could therefore easily avoid being convicted for murder.

"Yeah, that would make sense," Allison replied, trying to lock their gazes, but Stiles studiously avoided her. "But what's the motive?"

The rest of the discussion was as fruitless as it was before. They had mostly agreed that a vampire was the most likely target this time, but they hadn't really moved forward, and soon they started leaving one by one when there was nothing left to discuss. Lydia and Malia were the first to leave, and Isaac soon followed. Kira smiled awkwardly at Stiles when she walked past him towards the door, and Stiles wanted to go too, but just when he was almost at the door, a hand wound around his arm and stopped him.

"Scott?"

"Hey," Scott said, as if he hadn't seen him before. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he replied, knowing full well Scott could hear right through the lie, even if he hadn't been a werewolf. From the corner of his eye he saw Allison approaching them and his gaze automatically went down.

"Stiles?" Allison asked, sounding worried. Then there was a brief silence, before Scott shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"Hey, we haven't had a bro night in ages, how about coming over today? Play some games, watch a movie..." Scott trailed off, sounding light but also a little hopeful, like he thought Stiles would decline the offer. And he wanted to. He wanted to go home and lie awake in his bed the whole night.

"Sure," he heard himself say, despite everything.

 

* * *

"Won again!" Scott gave him a triumphant smile and made weird victory wiggle from where he was sitting on the ground, while Stiles kept glaring at him.

"You cheated—we agreed on no wolfy reflexes!"

Scott flashed him a grin and picked up the controller again, ready for the next round of Super Smash Bros.

Still glaring, Stiles shifted to a more comfortable position, still sitting cross-legged on the ground beside Scott. Stiles might give off the impression that he actually just complained for the fun of it—but in reality he was acting sour because he was actually feeling wronged. And he didn't care that this particular train of thought didn't really make much sense.

They started again and Stiles immediately sent his Kirby to attack.

"So," Scott said slowly, making his Toon Link dodge Stiles's attacks with ease, using his werewolf reflexes again, the fucker. Stiles was sufficiently distracted that he didn't even notice Scott's suddenly cautious tone.

"Do you wanna talk about what's wrong?"

Stiles froze for a bit and Toon Link sent Kirby flying; Stiles only barely saved him from falling. It was unfair, really, because Scott didn't have to concentrate nearly as much as Stiles to even have a chance at this game. Damn werewolves. And damn feelings. Stiles didn't want to talk about feelings. He was just so exhausted from having to think about them all the time, he didn't want to _talk_ about them too.

"No." He only really replied so curtly because he was a little preoccupied. Scott soon slowed down, though, and Stiles sometimes wished he was still as oblivious as he had been before... well, before all the supernatural crap started happening. It would have saved him this conversation. Scott had surely planned this when Stiles hadn't been looking.

"Stiles." Scott groaned his name. It was impressive how he could groan his name like that, expressing annoyance and at the same time pleading with him to stop acting so childishly.

"Scott," Stiles replied, because he really wasn't above being childish. What was he supposed to say anyway? _I had a nightmare, but it wasn't like the ones I usually have_? Scott already knew he still got them from time to time. He knew there wasn't really anything he could do to change that. It was something Stiles had to get over by his own strength. Scott, bless him, also knew that Stiles was strong enough to deal with it. Stiles knew it himself. Only that sometimes... sometimes it still felt a little overwhelming. Sometimes the guilt took a hold of him and didn't let go, and he wondered about the families of the people that had died by his hands, and how they would probably want him dead if they knew. He still couldn't think about Allison for too long, and it still hurt looking at her, although a huge part of him was so unbelievably relieved that she was alive, that she had made it.

He was sure he'd have broken in the hospital the day following her injury if the news had been anything but that she'd be fine again. It was enough that he still couldn't face Chris Argent.

He flinched when Scott's hand settled on his shoulder, and looking up, he saw Scott with a worried expression on his face.

"Dude, you okay?" Scott's voice was soft and low, barely above a whisper, but it was the right approach, Stiles realized. Stiles also realized that this was Scott, his best friend, the one who hadn't forgiven him because he had never blamed him in the first place, and it would be really douche-y of Stiles to keep this from him. They had always told each other everything, no secrets, no boundaries. Stiles didn't want to push him away.

"I just had a nightmare," Stiles finally murmured and drove a hand through his hair. He sighed, suddenly feeling the exhaustion on his shoulders, settling over his chest. He hadn't slept well last night, and apparently, the lack of sleep was finally catching up with him now.  
Scott's hand on his shoulder was a steadying presence, and before Stiles knew it, Scott had gradually pulled him into a hug, hanging on to him and showing him he was there, and would always be.

Stiles sighed. "It's just... it was different this time."

Scott stayed silent, just listening, and once Stiles really started, it felt so great to get it all out, to tell him something he had never really told anyone before. "Usually, it's memories of... the visions the nogitsune gave me. Actual memories. But this time... it was really weird, Scott."  
Scott buried his nose in the crook of Stiles's neck and Stiles... had actually never started to be embarrassed ever since Scott had started with those hugs after the nogitsune, and he wasn't going to now. It actually calmed him down like nothing else.

"I was in school at night and then there was this flickering red light... and then the scene changed and I was... I was stabbing you and there was so much blood, Scott, it was red everywhere."

Scott actually growled quietly at that and squeezed Stiles close, as if protecting him from the nightmare. If only he could, but the gesture alone made Stiles feel okay enough. The reassurance that Scott had his back and wasn't angry at him, only at the nogitsune.

They stayed like this for ages, until their heartbeats synced and Stiles started drifting off. He didn't remember how they got into Scott's bed, and he didn't really care, his best friend's presence like a shield against any and all threats. He remembered snuggling into Scott's chest before he finally fell asleep.

 

* * *

The darkness around Stiles was shifting. He wondered how the complete absence of light could move, and his heartbeat quickened, thudding painfully against his chest, when he realized a moment later that he couldn't see anything. Even as he raised his hand right in front of his eyes, there was still pitch blackness, and it unnerved him so much that he started moving, blindly running forward, trying to get away, trying to find light; he didn't care how much, just enough to stop it from feeling like he was losing his mind. But no matter how far he went, the darkness kept shifting around him, as if there was something lurking in it, something evil.

Then, when his heart started to feel like a thousand needles were piercing it, there was suddenly a red, jittery line in front of him, leading into the distance. Stiles stopped and stared at the prominent red color against the darkness. Nothing else was visible, just the red line.

Stiles crept forward cautiously, but he had to move almost right to the edge of the line to finally see that it was fresh blood, its liquid consistency reflecting light that wasn't there. Stiles wanted to be sick. He needed to follow the trail, but he knew whatever he would find there wasn't anything he wanted to see. Still, his feet started moving again, almost by themselves.

_Stiles..._

He kept moving, despite the sudden voice in his head.

_Stiles_. The voice became more urgent, hissing the s's in his name. It made Stiles run faster, along the zig-zag trail of crimson blood. Stiles suddenly realized he was dreaming. It had to be a dream. A nightmare. He should be able to wake up, shouldn't he? But the darkness prevailed and Stiles never stopped moving, the blood never thinning, still as fresh as before.

_You cannot escape, Stiles._

He pressed his hands over his ears to block it out, although he knew it was futile. You couldn't block out a voice that was in your head. Inside you.

_Stiles, if you solve the riddle, we might let them go._

_NO_ , Stiles wanted to scream, but when he opened his mouth, no sound came from it. This was already over, the nogitsune was gone, it was gone!

_Solve the riddle, Stiles._

But there was no riddle to solve. It had never told Stiles anything to solve. Stiles screamed and sobbed, but the sounds never came. His nausea made him finally stop and fall to his knees, bracing himself on the dark, invisible ground with his equally invisible hands, and he retched.

_The riddle, Stiles._

He raised his head and could see again, his ragged breath making actual noise, but what he saw made him wish the darkness back.

The pale, gray sunlight illuminated the graveyard before him, light trimmed grass and tombs the only things there. In a perfect line, there were seven tombstones, rounded at the top, covered in red red blood, stark against the pale gray everything was cast in. A metal pole entwined by wolfsbane stuck out from each tomb, and impaled on them was each member of his pack, starting with Allison. All their eyes open and dead, but still looking at him, accusingly and blank.

_You did not solve the riddle, Stiles_ , the voice taunted.

Stiles curled into a ball, rocking himself back and forth, muttering to himself to wake up like a mantra, but something in the dream forced him to look back up, seeing the corpses again, but this time their eyes were alive and they were silently staring at him...

Stiles woke. He was aware of being in Scott's bed. He could see and hear and the room around him was dark, but the moonlight seeping in through the window was enough light for him to make out shapes, to see things.

But he couldn't breathe. He tried to open his mouth to suck in the air he needed, but he couldn't. His lungs ached for oxygen, and the panic kicked in along with a slight dizziness. He flailed his arms around before grabbing the sheets with one and at something warm with the other.  
The warm thing moved and when Stiles looked, he saw into Scott's panicked eyes looking at him. Scott grabbed his shoulders.

"Stiles? Stiles, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice urgent and afraid, and suddenly, Stiles managed to take a gulp of air in. He could breathe again.

"Stiles, breathe with me, okay?" Scott said and took deep, slow breaths, which Stiles tried to imitate, but the first few tries failed and he thought he'd have a panic attack after all, until finally, after what felt like eternity, his breathing calmed down. They stayed like that, Scott half looming over Stiles, still watching him and they both just breathing.

"Thanks," Stiles croaked, deflating into the pillow. He hadn't realized how exhausting the whole fiasco was. Maybe it was the relief about just being able to breathe again, or maybe it was the lack of oxygen he had suffered, that his mind was pleasantly blank. No thoughts swirling around and keeping him from relaxing, and most importantly, _no voice in the back of his mind_.

Scott lay down again, his hand seeking out Stiles's and holding it tight, his arm lightly pressing against Stiles's. "Stiles?"

"Hmm?" Stiles still focused on breathing in rhythm with Scott, slow and even.

"You need to see Dr. Deaton."

Stiles opened his eyes and turned his head towards Scott. "No, thanks."

"Stiles," Scott said again, looking at him pleadingly, his look morphing into a perfect puppy dog expression. "He knows stuff. Maybe he can help with the nightmares."

Stiles stared at him, and Scott stared back, neither of them backing up an inch. But soon, Stiles grew tired of the staring contest, and to be honest, Scott had a good point. He didn't like admitting it, but it was the truth. Deaton probably knew a shit load of stuff they didn't. If only the dude didn't talk in riddles all the time.

_You did not solve the riddle, Stiles_. He remembered. He remembered and an icy bolt cut through his body, making him shiver. Yes, it was probably for the best. He sighed.

"Okay."

  
_A certain type of silence has filled my voice_  
 _I scream beneath the water and make no noise_  
 _All my prayers go quiet and never heard_  
 _And I am lost again_  
 _(Christina Perri – Sea of Lovers)_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the nightmares continue...

_I cannot stand on what's broken under me_   
_And I don't know how to forgive myself for everything_   
_But I must_   
_Learn to trust_   
_(Christina Perri - Trust)_

 

"Tell me about the nightmares." Deaton was looking at him expectantly, and Stiles really didn't want to be here right now. Deaton hadn't made him sit on the cold table, but the metal chair he was crouching in wasn't exactly that much better; it was still uncomfortable and his butt was cold.

He glanced over at Scott, who was trying to hide his worry but failing miserably, because it was right there, fucking screaming at everyone who didn't want to see. Then he glanced over at Derek—and he really wanted to know why he was here, but the moment for that question had passed and now he couldn't—and back to Scott, because he still couldn't quite look into Allison's eyes, who was standing right beside her boyfriend, turned towards Stiles and Deaton, probably listening closely. Stiles had no idea why they were all here. He wished only Scott was, because he kind of didn't want to repeat the confession to everyone. But apparently, that's exactly what Scott made him do right now.

"I, uh, the dreams are... disorganized? Yeah, I think you could call it that. They're disorganized, but also kind of... uh, creepier? It... it's gotten worse than before... and they're much more frequent again." He avoided everyone's looks after that, because he really didn't need to see the pity. Or the concern, or whatever else kinds of sympathy, really. Dr. Deaton, thankfully, only smiled at him mildly, just staying professionally friendly. Exactly what Stiles could take right now.

"Are they different from before?"

Again, Stiles paused to think. It was really hard not to look at his friends. It was also hard to get the truth out again. Scott was one thing—he was his best friend and he trusted him with his life. But Dr. Deaton? Yeah, he might be some kind of father figure for Scott, but he wasn't that for Stiles.

"Yeah, I guess they are. I mean... before, they were just, well, memories of... of, you know, and now it's completely out of context, like, one second I'm in one place, and in the next, I'm somewhere else. Or there's just darkness all around and I can't even see my own hand in front of my eyes... and... stuff..." Stiles explained, leaving out the bits about his dead and bloodied friends. And that it was his doing. And that it still hurt deep in his chest to think about it.

He caught Derek's eyes despite himself, and what he saw there was a mix of sadness and anger, pretty much exactly what Scott had shown the night before. Sadness at Stiles suffering and anger at the thing that had caused it. It was still a little bizarre how even Stiles and Derek had become friends like that. They hadn't exactly had the best start.

"Hmm..." Deaton seemed pensive, looking at Stiles but not really seeming to see him, but then he re-focused. "What is it like when you wake up from the nightmares?"

It was the question Stiles hadn't wanted to answer the most. Because it was kind of personal and embarrassing. And he really didn't want to make his friends worry anymore.

"Sometimes I wake screaming," his voice was saying, but it was as if it wasn't really him, like it was someone else explaining, clinically and completely calm, "Sometimes I can't breathe, and sometimes... I'm kinda close to a panic attack."

Nobody said anything, although Stiles heard Scott whine in the back of his throat. Or was it Derek? Or both of them? He wasn't sure, because he wasn't looking. The silence stretched on with Deaton twirling his non-existent beard.

"I can't say for sure what it is yet, but you should keep taking note of everything about the dreams and the moments after you wake up. I can give you a dreamcatcher, it should help with common nightmares."

"Dreamcatchers? They work?" Stiles asked, frowning. He had thought it was just some sort of exotic decoration many people liked. He'd never have thought they were actually "catching" dreams.

Deaton smiled. "Mine do."

"Okay," Stiles said, because what else should he say? Apparently, it was that easy to get rid of nightmares. Just get yourself a special enhanced dreamcatcher a la Deaton.

"Keep in mind that the dreamcatcher is only a temporary solution," Deaton added mysteriously, because the guy knew how to do that.

Stiles stood, and suddenly, Scott was by his side, Allison right behind. It was kind of endearing. What was a bit strange was that Derek appeared on his other side, searching for something in his eyes. Hell knew what it was he was looking for, but it did kind of make it hard to control his sweat and heartbeat, being stared at so intensely. By Derek.

"Isaac and I think we found a trail," Derek said. It was probably meant for Scott, although he was still looking at Stiles. "We should go and have a look at it, Scott."

"Yeah..." Stiles heard Scott say. It sounded contemplative. "Allison, could you go with Stiles?"

Stiles slowly turned around to look at them, and this time, he really didn't manage to get his heart rate under control. It practically leapt out of his chest at the prospect of being alone with Allison.

"Can't I go with you? It could help if I saw-"

"No," Scott immediately cut him off, but then coughed sheepishly, "I mean, we don't know if it's anything, right?"

"Stiles?" Allison said, and finally, Stiles looked at her, really looked at her. She looked good, healthy, not at all white like a ghost anymore. Like she'd disappear any moment.

"It's okay," she said gently, like she knew. And Stiles realized she probably did. Scott would know—he was Stiles's best friend, of course he'd know—and he had probably told her.

He averted his eyes. It still hurt. It still hurt so fucking much. How could she not be angry at him? How could everyone not be angry at him?

"Let's go," she said, and with that, the decision was final.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles needed three tries before his jeep purred to life. It was disconcerting and made him sad, but fuck if he wouldn't drive her till her last day. However, his nerves were all over the place for a different reason, which sat in the passenger seat right now, next to him.

Allison was looking forward, seemingly without concern and totally chill. Stiles thought she wasn't though. At least he supposed that she was a little nervous too, because Stiles would definitely be nervous if he knew his friend was nervous around him, and since Allison knew, and probably knew that Stiles knew... Stiles kind of lost this train of thought.

He cleared his throat and pulled out of the parking lot, choosing the fastest way to Allison's. Maybe his clearing his throat was some kind of cue, he didn't know, but Allison started talking.

"Can you tell me about the nightmares?"

And the question was totally unexpected. So unexpected that Stiles almost lost his cool while driving. He screamed curses in his head until he was sufficiently calmed. "Can we not talk about that? I just told you all in there..."

"Might I maybe know you better than that? That was only the surface, Stiles. Please tell me. We're friends," she said. We're friends, she said and meant that they could trust each other more, that Stiles could maybe start trusting her more. Even though it was Stiles who shouldn't be trusted after everything. Stiles sighed.

"Doesn't Scott tell you?"

"He said it's not for him to say," Allison said, turning towards him. "I want to know. I want to know you. And I want you to know me."

Stiles realized that Allison was scarily good at getting what she wanted. That she was scarily good at making him feel less nervous. He really didn't deserve friends like that.

"They're bad," Stiles confessed. He was fighting an inner battle whether he should continue, but Allison's words had a strange magical impact on him, spurring him on and making him want to tell her. "They're scary and creep me out."

Allison's face didn't change into pity, or anything at all. It just stayed interested, silently supportive, and it felt a little liberating.

"I'm stabbing Scott..." he said in a whisper, because even now, he still couldn't talk about it loudly, still wasn't over it. "I'm stabbing him and the nogitsune is telling me I can't run... and then there's this dream where I can't see or hear or make sound... there's nothing but blackness... and then there's a trail of blood and the nogitsune demands of me to solve a riddle it never told me, and then you... everyone's impaled on metal poles and your dead eyes are watch- watching me..."

He finally cracked and couldn't say another word, or he'd actually start crying and getting a panic attack. It's like reliving those nightmares. The glaring red of the blood, Scott's betrayed expression, the nothingness, as if he didn't exist, and his friends all dead.

Allison's hand on his shoulder snapped him out of it. "Hey, you okay?"

He nodded and focused back on the street. It wouldn't do him any good if he actually managed to kill both him and Allison because he didn't pay attention.

"It wasn't your fault," Allison said after what felt like an eternity. She was looking straight ahead at the road, not at him, and it was probably for the better, or Stiles would have let his attention slip again. "Technically, it was because of Kira's electricity."

"So what, should I blame Kira now?"

"No. She didn't know any better. If anyone, blame Barrow."

Stiles thought back to the incident. He didn't remember what happened after he walked in with the bat. But it was still not that easy.

"It was the nogitsune who got him to do it... and it was inside me already."

"Exactly. It was that thing that did it, not you, Stiles," Allison said, her voice gentle again. Like she was talking to a scared animal. Maybe that was what Stiles was right now. A scared animal that didn't know what to do but to attack in defense.

"But it happened because I didn't close the door..."

There was a long silence, and Stiles knew there wasn't much road left till he'd reach Allison's home. He thought Allison had given up on talking to him. He couldn't blame her—he was a difficult case. But then she spoke again.

"It could have been me. I almost didn't close the door either..."

"What?"

Allison let out a huff and Stiles glanced over to see her roll her eyes. "I almost pushed it open. It could have been me."

Stiles was stunned speechless for a moment there. This sounded like a big confession. It sounded like something she hadn't told a lot of people. Something she had told maybe her dad and Scott and Lydia. And now she was telling Stiles.

"And you know what? If it had been me, I don't think I'd still be sane."

"Don't cut yourself short, Alli, you're strong."

She actually smiled at that. "So are you."

"I'm still sorry."

Allison was silent again, looking ahead. They were almost there; just down the road... And there they were. Stiles parked the jeep in front of her house at the edge of the sidewalk. They both remained sitting.

"You almost sacrificed your life," Allison finally said and turned to him again. She looked into his eyes earnestly, and Stiles didn't need clarification. Of course she was talking about the nogitsune's icy illusion and how Stiles had actually considered sacrificing himself to maybe save his friends—when they all hadn't known if Allison would make it. It still brought the chill back into his bones when he remembered. He shivered.

"I think that's enough. You don't need to keep sacrificing, Stiles." Her eyes bore into his. She was completely serious, trying to will Stiles to believe in it. But Stiles bowed his head, partly in embarrassment and partly in shame. Shame at the fact that he was still so hung up over it all. Shame at the fact that he was constantly disappointing his friends. He thought that maybe he should start to change that. But Allison's hand on his shoulder again pulled him back to the present.

"Let's go, there's something I want to have a look at, because there's just something that doesn't quite make sense about our newest case."

And with that, their conversation was closed and the tension slowly dissipated as business took over.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles woke to the sun warming his skin. He blinked awake and took a few moments to marvel at the fact that he really hadn't had any nightmares. It almost felt surreal. He finally rose and turned around towards the window to thank the awesomely awesome dreamcatcher hanging there for catching and eliminating his nightmares, when he noticed Derek crouching in front of the window again. Thankfully, this time he didn't almost fall down.

"The hell are you doing here so early, dude," Stiles muttered but got out of the bed anyway. It was kind of embarrassing that Derek was forcing him to parade around in his pajamas, but there was currently nothing he could do. The guy just lived to embarrass him. And slam him into hard surfaces.

Derek climbed in nonchalantly, and not without regarding Stiles and quirking a brow again at his choice of clothes. Stiles replied with a glare, because really? That was rude, dude.

"I hear you and Allison found something?"

"We did, in fact, find something," Stiles said, but didn't continue, just to annoy Derek. Hey, if Derek got to make fun of him about his pajamas, Stiles could at least do this. Derek's suddenly slightly hurt expression didn't make any sense to him, though. This wasn't even close to the worst Stiles had said to the sourwolf.

"Hey, what's up with your sour expression, sourwolf?" Because really, Stiles kind of had a thing for werewolves, and stubble, and leather-jackets. And he didn't want to hurt the guy any more than he already had been hurt. Stiles was actually still unsure why the hell Peter and Cora told him, of all people, about Derek's past.

"Nothing," Derek said. Of course. Because the guy was as secretive and closed-up as the fucking national bank. Stiles could somewhat understand, though, because he hadn't been that much better about talking to people lately. At least he had opened up to Scott and Allison. Who did Derek open up to?

"Anyway, there's this little tidbit about vampires actually sucking blood, you know. But, according to the reports, no blood is missing. Also, don't vampires induce sleep paralysis when they're actually there? I doubt those victims invited them in their sleep. Though, if they're anything like me... they might have."

"We're not dealing with vampires." It was a simple statement, like Derek was just accepting that it wouldn't be as "easy" as they had hoped. Vampires were one thing, but now they had to consider witches, weird demons, and the like. It would be frustrating and annoying, and someone would probably get hurt, that someone probably being Stiles, because werewolves kind of had cool healing abilities, while he did not. Also, it wasn't like they'd put Lydia in harm's way.

"About the dreamcatcher..." Derek looked a bit hesitant, not meeting Stiles's eyes, and pushed his hands into his jeans pockets. It looked kinda cute, and kinda delectable. Stiles's brain, apparently, decided again to be weird. He couldn't help it, though, since this was Derek, and Derek looked... well, really hot. It was kinda hard not to notice.

So Derek wanted to ask if Deaton's plan was working, and... oh. Oh! Stiles couldn't suppress the grin that pushed the corners of his lips apart. Because Derek really cared. Wow. That was kind of awesome. And also a little sad that he couldn't just ask Stiles. But he'd take what he could get.

"Aw, were you worried?"

Derek actually looked affronted by that, and he looked at Stiles with a frowny face. His trademark frowny face, though it had appeared less often these days. Stiles thought it would be cool if that was because of Scott, him, and the rest of the gang. Hanging out with normal people who didn't betray you and burn your family.

"You're pack," was all he said, but it sounded rather soft around the edges, an unusual thing with Derek. It conveyed so lot, though. If Stiles were sentimental or actually dared to, he'd probably hug him.

"I get it. The pack takes care of each other and stuff, right?"

Derek smiled—actually smiled!—but it had a teeny tiny hint of something else in it that Stiles couldn't quite identify.

"So..."

"We're good," Stiles took the initiative this time and placed a hand on Derek's shoulder, patting it a few times. He wasn't really looking forward to talking about feelings. Not with Derek, not with anyone. He'd really done enough of that these past days. "That is, I wasn't angry at you or anything for telling Scott—oh, don't gimme that look, of course I know it was you."

Derek huffed and Stiles snickered. It was nice, and the closest Stiles had been to Derek in forever. He had begun to even miss him smashing his head against the steering wheel, or his back against a wall, or something, and if that wasn't unhealthy...

Suddenly, Derek's arm reached around him and he pulled Stiles into one of these awkward bro-hugs, shoulder to shoulder. It was a shock at first, because, whoa, did Stiles NOT see that coming. But then it was awesome, and then there was Derek's nose poking into his hair, which confused Stiles at first, but then he remembered that he was a werewolf and probably had a thing for sniffing people. Or rather pack. Yeah, Stiles was pretty sure pack were sniffing each other. Sometimes. Maybe.

The... bro-hug, for lack of a better description, ended way too quickly, and not quick enough, because Stiles's mind was still in a very inconvenient place. He did so not need a boner right now.

"We'll need to discuss the vampire-matter, and there will be a movie night tonight at my place. You're invited."

Derek seemed to be full of surprises this day. They were actually doing a movie night. At Derek's. The last time they did something of that sort was months ago, when their meeting was cut short by Peter making a dramatic entrance and announcing he had taken care of the stray omega.

"Hell yeah! You better have some good movies there."

 

 

* * *

 

 

After finishing a long debate with himself about the benefits of arriving early vs. arriving late without coming to any conclusion, Stiles simply muttered a "fuck it" to himself and decided he'd just get to Derek's early because that's what he wanted to do. It had been some time since Stiles had just done whatever he wanted like that. Spontaneous and just a tiny bit reckless. But if he had learned anything in all that long time since the nogitsune, it was that Derek surely wouldn't mind, because apparently, they had become sort of friends.

So he arrived early, but only by a bit because that inner debate had taken some time, and when Derek opened the door, he had an unreadable expression on his face, with way too many emotions to discern them, but at the same time outwardly blank. It was weird, but Stiles would take it.

"Hi," he greeted the werewolf, and unlike the Derek from just a year ago, this Derek actually replied with a whole sentence.

"Hi. Come on in."

So Stiles did, but once he stepped over the threshold, all the nerves he had so studiously ignored returned, and he suddenly felt so very awkward. Not that it wasn't a feeling he was used to, but right when Derek could smell every little thing on him—and Stiles was sure it would smell like distress—it wasn't very convenient. Always those damn werewolf senses.

"You alright?" Derek promptly asked, but Stiles just narrowed his eyes at him.

"Did you just smell me?", he asked, and then something happened that Stiles would have never ever expected, and never thought it would be possible. Derek fucking sourwolf Hale blushed. It was very faint and all, but the slight pink touch to his cheeks was there, and Stiles saw it, and it was awe-some. He wished he could have snatched a photo with his smartphone, but it was gone so fast he wouldn't even have had the time to pull it out.

"You smell distressed," Derek said, opting for neutrality, probably, and yes! Stiles had guessed right again—distress! Though it shouldn't make him feel so victorious. It still did.

"Well, yeah, I'm fine, as you can see." Stiles pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and shrugged. Derek didn't exactly need to know about his not-feelings for the dude. Apparently, it was harder to accept them but also harder to deny when he was standing right in front of Derek. A weird paradox. Derek's hand suddenly on his shoulder was nice, though. And Derek's eyes searching his own made a shiver run down his spine that he somehow managed to suppress.

"You sure?"

Derek's pretty sudden need to be reassured of his well-being stunned Stiles for a moment. Mostly because it sent Stiles's mind racing through a thousand thoughts, most of them circling around the idea that maybe, possibly, hopefully, he might have a sliver of a chance with Derek. If Stiles had learned something from his dad being the sheriff, it was that sudden changes of behavior definitely meant something. Maybe, Stiles hoped, this change was significant enough to mean that whatever Derek was feeling for Stiles was good.

"Yeah," Stiles replied after a few moments of silence, "I'm sure. Sorry for being early."

"I don't mind," was all Derek said, and Stiles grinned at him for confirming his suspicion from earlier. Then Derek let go of his shoulder and led Stiles past the winding staircase to the couch, where Stiles plopped down and leaned back into the cushions. Yeah, this was definitely comfortable, Stiles had to give it to Derek. It felt infinitely more comfortable now that Stiles had had a good night's sleep without any of those damn nightmares. He just hoped he wouldn't drift off tonight, since he had no idea whether the dreamcatcher could actually catch a nightmare when he was somewhere else entirely.

His train of thought was cut off briskly by Derek plopping down right next to him, their shoulders touching, and it took a lot not to noticeably tense up at that. Because whoa, since when had Derek become so... touchy-feely? Before the hug back in his own room, the only times Derek had willingly and voluntarily touched Stiles was when the guy had threatened him, or smashed his head in the steering wheel of his car. But he wasn't complaining. At all. If anything, it only fed his hope. Maybe, if Stiles just accepted it—completely, not just in a casual 'okay, I guess I sorta maybe kind of like Derek' way—he could actually act on that hope.

While he was busy listening to his once again racing thoughts, he completely missed how Derek had slipped even closer, their legs now touching too and arms pressing against each other firmly. Stiles already opened his mouth to ask about that, but then shut it again, because really, how did he even get his hopes up by this much? Derek was very likely just worried for one of his pack. No big deal. If only Stiles's heart would for once agree with his mind, it would be cool, but alas, he could even hear himself how loud it was thumping in his chest. Derek couldn't be so oblivious that he hadn't noticed, could he? He had even immediately smelled Stiles at the door, so it couldn't be that Derek didn't know, right? Only then... why did he ignore it?

Before Stiles had the chance to try to alleviate his own nervousness, there was a bang at the door. Derek actually grumbled before standing up and going to open it to his pack, and Stiles was glad Derek had his back on him for that, because his jaw dropped. Literally. And he only barely shut his mouth again before Malia, Kira and Lydia entered. When they spotted him, they all shot him surprised and suspicious looks. Lydia gracefully sat down to his right while Malia, preferring to sit on the ground, made herself comfortable against his legs, tilting her head back and greeting him with a grin. Kira took the empty space next to Lydia.

"So, what are you doing here so early?" Lydia asked him directly, raising a delicate brow. She was really good at giving him silent, unobtrusive support, but that didn't mean she couldn't still scare the shit out of him with her keen observation and Sherlock Holmes like deduction skills. That girl wasn't a genius for nothing, and Stiles hadn't had a deep crush on her for nothing, either.

"Nothing better to do," he replied, hoping to sound less like lying than he felt. Sometimes, he swore, Lydia intimidated him just because it was fun for her to do, or because she wanted to prove a point. Either way, it was uncomfortable, and even the warmth of Malia's back didn't help making him feel less uncomfortable.

"Hm," she replied and attentively observed how Derek planted himself to Stiles's left again, this time flush against Stiles because there wasn't much space left. And fuck, he could feel the heat rising to his chest and cheeks. He didn't really need to look at Lydia to know that she had already figured everything out. Damn his gifted friends. Damn them.

Another knock on the door saved Stiles from Lydia voicing her observations. This time, Derek rolled his eyes before going to open it again, his hand casually squeezing Stiles's shoulder as he got up. Even Stiles couldn't deny it anymore. Something was going on with Derek, and judging from Lydia's gleeful grin, she was convinced there was something going on between Derek and Stiles. Already. Although Stiles had literally just a few minutes ago started to accept that thing. He guessed he would need to set her straight, but that would have to wait for later. Before she outed him when he still wasn't quite ready. That would not be very cool. It would be incredibly embarrassing.

Scott and Allison both gave Stiles long and way too significant looks when they made their way over to the chair, Allison sitting down on Scott's lap, and Derek came back again, once again sitting down next to Stiles, and once again pressing his freaking limbs against his. Derek even pressed himself a little more against Stiles before he started speaking.

"Apparently, we are not dealing with vampires," he started, and what followed was another pretty fruitless meeting, because neither Stiles nor Allison had found anything in the bestiary that would explain the phenomenon. Except for witches, of course. Those were always a possibility, though Stiles still wished it wasn't that.

When it was over, Derek finally announced their movie night, and the ruthless fight over which movie to watch began. And Stiles decided he'd confess. To Derek. Soon. Because he was pretty sure he didn't have much to lose.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Stiles woke up this time, he had a ringing in his ears, his heart was trying to beat itself out of his chest and he couldn't breathe again. He didn't remember much from the nightmare he'd just had, only dim memories of something dark and the nogitsune's voice taunting him again with threats of you are running out of time, Stiles. But his current inability to breathe was the more pressing matter right now. He was curled against a warm body and the left side of his face was smashed into someone's shoulder and his eyes were still closed. When he tried, he couldn't open them. In fact, his whole body felt like he was paralyzed with kanima poison again. Everything was so suffocating and he really didn't want to die like this right now, because suffocation fucking hurt like hell, and he'd had enough of hurting, but the paralysis even kept back the tears of frustration he wanted to shed.

Until the person he was leaning against shifted and grabbed his shoulders. "Stiles?"

He immediately tore open his eyes and took a huge gulp of air, before starting to breathe shallowly. It burned and he still couldn't quite focus his eyes on anything, the world around him was so blurry. But the person in front of him—he thought it might be Derek—kept telling him to breathe out deeply, to slow down, and so he did.

His vision was still a little blurry around the edges, which was annoying as fuck, but Stiles could deal. At least he didn't suffocate.

Derek stared into his eyes with a panicked expression on his face. It would have looked kinda hilarious if Stiles didn't feel like he had just surfaced from deep waters after spending half an hour down there without an oxygen tank. He was still breathing heavily, though he could now focus on Derek's face. Which was a really pretty face. And oh, he must have suffered a bad lack of oxygen to feel this woozy.

"Stiles, are you okay?" he heard Scott's voice from out of his vision, because Derek was cupping his face with his hands and didn't let him turn. Well, this way he could continue looking into Derek's pretty green eyes. They were quite fascinating with their speckles of brown and gold. And that brown ring around his iris. What was that called again? Central heterochromia? Something like that, he supposed.

"'M fine. Sorry," Stiles replied, because really? He should get himself together. So he raised his hand and poked at the back of Derek's hand, until the werewolf let go of his face. He had rather liked it, but they weren't exactly alone. The hand on his shoulder, however, remained.

"Oh shit." Stiles didn't manage to hold that back, then he turned towards the other people in the room and noticed that The Avengers (their third movie, after Lydia had gotten her way with the first being The Notebook) was still running when he heard a particularly loud explosion. He must have fallen asleep somewhere after the beginning.

Everyone stared, which was hardly surprising, considering he had just seemed like he was having a panic attack. In front of the whole freaking pack. If there was a moment when Stiles wished the ground could swallow him, this was it.

"Stiles, did you have another... you know," Scott asked, quirking his brows, and Stiles sighed. There was no use in hiding it from the rest of them. They had witnessed it, and telling them it was a nightmare would probably be better than to have them believe it was a panic attack.

"Yeah, it was another nightmare." He caught Allison's worried gaze before averting his eyes.

"How often did you have those nightmares in the past week now?" Lydia asked him, lips pursed and eyes narrowed in serious thought. Stiles pondered that, and a terrible thought struck him.

"The first nightmare happened the night before Derek told me about the deaths," Stiles said and looked at Derek, who looked back at him, still as close as he had been before. "And you said the victims suffered breathing trouble and panic attacks before their deaths? I mean, I couldn't breathe when I had that nightmare at Scott's, and right now too..."

There was a gasp from somewhere and Derek's expression hardened. Stiles could see how his jaw tensed and his grip on Stiles's shoulder tightened. It was nice that he was worried, but his grip was kinda painful, so Stiles wriggled a little till Derek got the hint and softened it, but didn't let go.

"But it doesn't make sense, does it?" Isaac cut in, "You were here all this time. We would have noticed someone or something sneaking in."

"Unless it's a witch who used magic," Kira provided, then looked awkward because she seemed to realize she had done nothing to make the situation better. It was the truth, though, and Stiles couldn't fault her for that. Actually, it was what would help them more than any sugar-coating.

"We need to see Deaton again first thing in the morning," Scott said then, his face just as steely as Derek's. His tone of voice brooked no objections, and this time, Stiles was more than eager to comply. If this had anything to do with their new case, he'd rather find out as early as possible. Despite what his recklessness sometimes might suggest, he did not have a death wish.

"Yeah, I guess we do."

 

 

* * *

 

 

This time around, there were even more people gathered in Deaton's clinic and Stiles unfortunately had to take the uncomfortable metal table for a seat. Its cold seeped through his jeans and he sincerely hoped it wouldn't cause his balls to freeze while he lightly swung his legs back and forth and tapped his fingers against the tabletop. Deaton didn't look the slightest bit concerned. Or maybe it was just his usual face—Stiles still couldn't quite see the difference between those.

"Nightmares, trouble breathing and sleep paralysis," Deaton repeated the symptoms Stiles had just explained to him. He did look pensive, but still not concerned. Apparently, Deaton either didn't care or there was the possibility that they weren't dealing with something incredibly evil here. Stiles would prefer the latter.

"Can you help us?" Scott asked in a voice that even scared Stiles a little. Scott stood to Stiles's right side like a guard, tall and prepared to defend his best friend from any evil. Stiles did appreciate it, really, because not much was more heart-warming than knowing your bestie cared this much, but he thought maybe it could be detrimental to their task of obtaining even the smallest hint of what exactly they were dealing with.

Deaton gave Scott a tiny smile, though it didn't exactly look anything paternal. "I think I might be able to."

Scott visibly relaxed a little, and Stiles didn't want to think about what Scott would have done if Deaton had negated his question. To Stiles's left, Derek's shoulders also sagged the tiniest bit. Seriously, although they both probably thought they were supporting him and keeping him safe from spontaneously attacking supernatural things like some bodyguards, Stiles rather felt they were caging him in like sentries, keeping an eye on him so he wouldn't lose his mind and bolt—like he did before, when he got possessed by an evil fox.

"You are certainly not dealing with vampires or witches. I notice no such signs on him, and I would have," Deaton said, and wow, the knowledge that it definitely wasn't a witch did calm him a little. Though now they had no clue whatsoever what they were dealing with. Again.

"Then what is it?" Scott asked again, his hands balled to fists and Stiles could see how his thumbnails slowly grew long and sharp. He quickly grabbed Scott's arm and squeezed reassuringly, until Scott finally glanced at him and stopped with the wolfing out.

"I am not sure yet, because this is the first time I have heard of such phenomena in this part of the world," Deaton replied and furrowed his brows. Then he walked over to the far end and retrieved a book from the shelf, turning pages in thought. The seconds ticked by, and Derek crossed his arms in front of his chest, his muscles tense, looking like he was becoming impatient, and Scott wasn't doing much better.

Stiles knew what this was about, he had shared a look with Allison from beside Scott, and her horrified expression had confirmed it for Stiles. They were afraid he might be possessed again. And Stiles... wanted to say he didn't have a clue why he hadn't thought of that, but the truth was, he knew. He was still so scared to even think about the possibility, and now that he finally had, a cold shiver ran down his spine and goosebumps rose on his arms.

He never wanted to go through that again. He never wanted to hurt anyone again. He'd rather let himself be locked up in Eichen House again than let that happen. If it would keep his friends and family safe, he'd even rather die.

The thought made him shudder as he remembered the cold metal of that sword he had almost used to do just that, and he immediately had two hands on his shoulders, because apparently, now Scott and Derek both wanted to play mother hen. He almost rolled his eyes at them. On the other hand, that gesture did get him out of the horrible memory.

"Stiles?" It was a wonder how Derek managed to ask Stiles about his well-being just by saying his name. It was a wonder how he managed to say all sorts of things just by saying his name.

"Yeah, I'm fine. You got anything there, doc?"

"Here," Deaton finally said and returned with the book, holding it towards Stiles and waiting for everyone to read it.

"So it's an alp or mare?" Scott wondered aloud, looking up from the book.

"Seems like it," Stiles answered for Deaton when he had read through that paragraph. "The symptoms all match."

"But nothing here says that it kills the people it... possesses."

"That is because not all of them do," Deaton said and everyone looked up at him again. "They leech life energy from their victims from their dreams. Nightmares are particularly powerful to them. If they leech too much in one night, they are even able to kill."

Stiles slumped a bit on the table and sighed. "And we're dealing with the vicious kind in our case." Go figure. Stiles just had to attract a deadly supernatural assface. But then again, the last one had been very deadly too. This was the second time already. Stiles hoped this wouldn't develop into a pattern.

The hands on his shoulders both tensed and squeezed him. It would be hilarious if it wasn't so serious.

"Stiles," Kira, who had been perfectly quiet all this time, called him and stepped forth from behind Derek. She looked a little nervous, biting her lower lip, but she still came to stand in front of him and held out her hand, "Please take this."

Stiles reached out and let Kira drop a little something into his hand. It was something rectangular wrapped in red cloth with a ribbon on the top and golden Japanese characters imprinted on the cloth, feeling smooth against his skin.

"It's a charm. My mother says it protects from evil spirits."

"Thanks," Stiles replied, still looking at the thing. He didn't really believe it would actually help him, but the thought counted. Just because she didn't know him as long as the others didn't mean she wouldn't worry about him. He put the charm into his jeans pocket for now.

"I guess some more research is in order, right?" Stiles hopped from the table and stretched, before turning on his friends. "I know you won't listen to me anyway if I tell you to go home, so... you're invited if you want to come."

Neither Scott, nor Derek denied it. Such worry-warts. But then again, Stiles couldn't hold it against them. They could probably smell his fear, because yes, he was again, or still, afraid. He had sworn to himself never to get possessed again, and here he was, being "ridden" by a damn alp or mare. It was like being possessed. That damn thing controlled his body in his sleep, and it was responsible for him having those creepy nightmares. But Stiles wouldn't be Stiles if he let that stop him. He'd find out how to get rid of the fucker, and get rid of it he would.

Never again, he swore, would he let himself be manipulated so easily. The alp had something else coming, that was for sure.

 

_‘Cause I have been where you are before_   
_And I have felt the pain of losing who you are_   
_And I have died so many times, but I am still alive_   
_(Christina Perri - I believe)_

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that they know what they are dealing with, they have a plan... but when did their plans ever work out the way they had intended them to?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally the last chapter! Yay! And it's even longer than I originally planned...  
> Though it's almost unedited (except for a tiny slip up that I corrected in which I described the sun setting and ten minutes later it being midnight - oops).  
> I'm really sorry that there was kind of not that much Sterek in it. Though I hope all you Sterek shippers will like the ending :)
> 
> Thanks again for the lovely kudos and the comment <3 It's awesome to know that people actually read my stuff.

_I believe if I knew where I was going I’d lose my way_   
_I believe that the words that he told you are not your grave_   
_I know that we are not the weight of all our memories_   
_I believe in the things that I am afraid to say_   
_Hold on, hold on_   
_(Christina Perri - I believe)_

 

The sun had set hours ago, but Stiles hadn't bothered to turn on the lights in his room, leaving it in moonlit darkness. The light of his computer screen was already irritating his eyes, making them more tired than they already were, but he stubbornly refused to do anything about that.

"Do you think only the German alps are stopped by urinating into a bottle, hanging it into the sun for three days, then carrying it to a running stream and throwing it in there over the head?" Stiles squinted at that piece of information on the website, both because of his tiredness and because he couldn't believe the madness being written about on that website. He turned around only to find Derek frowning at him from his bed.

"We have already decided on the method to catch it," Derek said firmly, and Stiles rolled his eyes.

"I know, I know, who'd want to do that crap anyway?" Stiles whirled around in his chair again and tried to find more information on that thing, and the more he read, the more ridiculous it turned out to be. They had already found out that one could either catch an alp by grabbing it with an inherited glove, or by closing up all the openings in the room after the sleeping person started to groan—especially the keyhole, as that was what they came through and got out most often. Since neither of them had an inherited glove, they were going with closing up the openings.

Truth was, Stiles was trying to distract himself because he was scared. He would never admit that, of course, but the thought of some creature riding him, even in the not-sexual sense, did make him feel a little nauseous. Whenever he really thought about it, he felt violated. And he remembered the nogitsune.

Stiles was just glad that Derek had managed to persuade everybody to leave it to him, because right now, they were all reminding him of being possessed again. That, and Stiles had had enough of their overbearing attitude. He appreciated their worry, but he could deal. He was already dealing. It wasn't like he'd snap and start killing people again. This wasn't like the nogitsune. This alp thing just wanted his life energy, not him to harm anyone.

A heavy hand settled on his shoulder and Stiles almost jumped out of his chair, his heart making an almost painful leap and proceeding to hammer against his ribcage. He looked up into Derek's face. Of course it was Derek. Who else was in his room? He wore his trademark frown, but his eyes were soft, and it made Stiles's heart flutter a tiny little bit.

"Uh," Stiles said intelligently and Derek raised his brows in return.

"You should go to sleep. It's almost midnight," Derek told him, squeezing his shoulder lightly, but Stiles only dimly registered that, because his heart suddenly started racing for a completely different reason. He was also sure he was projecting his sudden panic on his face, because Derek seemed to see it.

"What's wrong?"

"I... uh... nothing," Stiles lied and averted his eyes, before getting up and stretching, Derek's hand falling off his shoulder in the process. The werewolf was still standing very close to Stiles, not stepping back, and it did calm him down a little bit. He had been scared of Derek in the past (and seriously, who wouldn't be scared if a werewolf was staring at you like he wanted to tear your throat out?), but now he found his presence reassuring. Stiles gave him a smile Derek didn't return this time, turned, and went towards his closet, rummaging for his pajamas.

"I'll, uh, go change into these, then," Stiles reported and immediately wanted to slap his palm to his face for even saying that. Derek raised his brows at him again and Stiles swore he saw the corner of his mouth twitching. Now panicked and embarrassed, Stiles fled into the adjoining bathroom. He knew Derek had heard the lie, but he simply didn't want to talk about it now.

Stiles stalled the process of shrugging out of his tee and shorts and getting into his pajama bottoms. He briefly considered putting on the top too, but with how warm it was getting, he thought better of it. He was ready, but he wasn't, and sighing, he walked back into his room again, catching Derek staring at his bare chest.

He cleared his throat, which got Derek to immediately snap his eyes up to look at him. "So... if it gets boring watching me, you can," Stiles made a gesture towards his computer, "you know, surf the web or whatever."

Derek seemed like he wanted to say something, but then decided not to. He didn't look like he would sit down and surf the web. He looked like he was determined not to let Stiles out of his sight. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but the intensity in Derek's look did funny things to Stiles's insides. He quickly looked away and towards his bed, and wished he hadn't. It was time to go to sleep now, wasn't it? Which was about the last thing Stiles wanted to do.

Sighing again, he flopped down onto his bed, wiggling around and making it creak slightly until he was in a comfortable position, and folded his hands over his stomach. He stared up at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to claim him, while simultaneously trying not to fall asleep. He wished he wasn't so scared, but there was nothing else he could do now, was there?

He heard a shuffling and the next instant, Derek was looming over him, frown in place and eyes still soft. "Go to sleep, Stiles."

It sounded like Derek was inviting him to say what was bothering him, while at the same time giving him the chance to ignore that offer. He wondered when he had gotten so good at reading him, but a much bigger part of him was delighted he could do that now.

He hesitated. It wasn't like Derek could help him even if he admitted to being scared. Besides, it would be quite embarrassing to make that confession. Especially since there was another confession he wanted to get off his chest. But when things were uncertain and fucked up like this? Stiles didn't think it was the right time for stuff like that. In case the situation made a turn for the worse, some things were probably better left unsaid.

"I just-" Stiles started and took a sharp breath. He hadn't wanted to say anything! Why was his stupid mouth running off without his consent?

"I..." he started again, then sighed in defeat and closed his eyes. His mattress creaked again and he felt it dip a little when Derek sat down on it. There was a light pressure against his elbow from where Derek's arm brushed against it. Derek could probably hear his heart frantically bouncing out of control. Still, it was the closest he had ever felt to Derek, the barely there contact between Derek's arm and his elbow somehow feeling more significant than even the awkward bro-hug from before.

When he opened his eyes again, Derek's head was turned towards him sideways and he was peering down at Stiles pensively. Stiles's breath caught in his throat.

"What's wrong, Stiles?" Derek asked again, this time in a whisper. As if they were closer than they actually were.

Stiles let out the breath he was holding. "I'm scared," he finally whispered back, not taking his eyes from Derek's. For a few moments, Derek just continued looking at him, but then his arm brushed lightly against Stiles's elbow when he moved it, until his hand wound around Stiles's and pulled it from his stomach back onto the sheets, holding it tight. The air around them was suddenly beginning to become thinner, and Stiles was starting to feel warm.

But then Derek dropped his hand, moved his own forward and flipped his finger against Stiles's forehead.

"Ow! What's that for?" Stiles put his his to his forehead and scrambled to a sitting position, glaring at Derek.

"Idiot," Derek replied, his voice sounding light but the expression on his face still serious. He didn't say anything else, just kept looking at Stiles, as if silently telling him it was okay to feel scared, and that they would deal with it.

"Hmpf..." Stiles replied, still rubbing his forehead, just so Derek didn't have the last word. Derek rolled his eyes, though the corner of his mouth kept twitching.

"You'll fall asleep and I'll catch the alp," Derek said, leaning towards Stiles. He was only a few inches away and Stiles thought he could feel his hot breath on his skin.

"And when you wake up," Derek continued, and Stiles caught a strange glint in his eyes, as if he was planning something, "everything will be dealt with."

Stiles had forgotten to breathe, actually forgotten, and quickly sucked in some air to calm his frantic heart, but to no avail. He had never been good at keeping his physical reactions in control, so of course now wouldn't be an exception. But somehow... he got the feeling that Derek knew something. Considering that he couldn't have possibly overheard Stiles's reactions to him, he probably knew about Stiles's crush on him. If he knew and still behaved completely normal towards Stiles, did that mean he was okay with it? Stiles guessed he'd have to find out by confessing, which he definitely wouldn't do as long as the alp was after him.

He glared at Derek once more for good measure, then sighed and flopped back down, getting some healthy distance between them so he could breathe again.

"Go to sleep, Stiles," Derek repeated, and Stiles knew he didn't even have to ask him to stay. Derek didn't look like he was getting up or away anytime soon. So Stiles turned towards the wall and closed his eyes. Despite what he would call a successful attempt to distract him by Derek, it was a long time till he fell asleep, feeling somewhat safe with Derek being right there behind him, just an arm's length away.

 

* * *

 

Stiles felt himself come awake slowly, like being gently washed ashore and onto the sun-warmed sand. He felt warm and weightless, and it was the best he had felt in the morning in _weeks_. But as awareness crept in gradually, Stiles felt the easy lightness fade. Then he realized he had just woken up, which meant he had survived the night, which in turn meant Derek had caught the alp.

With a jolt Stiles pushed himself up, colliding with something hard. His hand shot to his head, and he voiced a surprised "ow". When he looked up he saw Derek leaning half over him and rubbing his jaw.

"Uh, sorry?" Stiles offered, his voice still scratchy from sleep. It did occur to him that it looked like Derek had sat on his bed the whole night, literally watching over him, but his brain had trouble catching up with that observation. So he picked the safe topic to talk about.

"So... the alp?" he asked, sitting up straighter but this time careful not to collide with Derek again. He didn't know if his hunch could be given any credit, but it did seem like something wasn't quite right, and a glance around his room told him what.

"You didn't catch it," Stiles continued with a frown, squinting at his room as if that could make the alp magically appear, bound and gagged.

"It's not that I didn't catch it," Derek replied, a slight growl accompanying his words, "It's rather the alp didn't show up."

"Oh." Stiles pulled his legs up and loosely wrapped his arms around them. Derek looked slightly angry, and since Stiles wasn't a total idiot, he did deduce that Derek was probably angry at the fact that the alp wasn't caught yet. However, Stiles also hoped Derek could be angry because he needed Stiles to be safe. Not just wanted, but needed. And Stiles had even planned to confess to Derek today, but with the alp still at large, he really didn't want to complicate things.

Okay, maybe he was a little afraid he was reading something into Derek's behavior that simply wasn't there. And maybe he was a little afraid that this was the so-called calm before the storm. The one day the alp decided to confuse them all by not showing up, only to finish him off the day after.

A shudder ran down his spine.

"You didn't have any nightmares," Derek said, now looking straight at him, and if Stiles wasn't already sitting, he might have staggered a little at the intensity with which Derek was searching him.

"Yeah, I've actually slept like a baby. That's why I thought you had caught it." But Derek hadn't, and they all weren't any wiser.

"So I had no nightmares because the alp didn't appear," Stiles thought out loud, furrowing his forehead while trying to make more sense of it all.

"Hn."

"But..." he said, but right after he started talking, the thoughts he had just moments before so carefully organized in his head, just scattered and left him with confusion again.

"What?" Derek finally asked when Stiles didn't say anything for a while.

"It's just weird. I haven't slept _this_ well in such a long time... even when I didn't have nightmares."

He turned his head up to look at Derek who was giving him an incredulous look.

"Er..." he said stupidly, "I'm not complaining about the good sleep. It's just..." Stiles gesticulated with his arms, as if Derek would get what he wanted to say when half the time Stiles had no clue himself, "... it's suspicious, isn't it?"

It was suspicious; Stiles was pretty sure. He had a fucking _sixth sense_ for stuff like that, hadn't he? Something about that pleasant night just rubbed him the wrong way.

"You smell differently," was Derek's reply, which—in all honesty—didn't really make much sense to Stiles and left him dumbfounded for a moment.

"Uh... would a shower help?"

Derek gave him an annoyed look and Stiles rolled his eyes.

"Still, that means another night of alp-catching. Yay..." In truth, Stiles was a bit torn on that. He _would_ kind of sort of like it if Derek insisted on watching over him again, but the prospect of maybe-dying was not very appealing. Stiles was still unsure what to think of all that. He didn't really want to be faced with his own mortality again so soon. He'd had enough of that, thank you very fucking much. But he couldn't just ignore it, either, since he wasn't the type to just sit by and do nothing.

A quiet shuffle alerted Stiles to Derek sitting down next to him. Derek was looking straight ahead, not at him, with a carefully neutral expression.

"You'll be fine." Stiles could almost feel Derek's arm so close to his legs he was still hugging. The unsaid 'I won't let anything happen to you' was hanging between them, and this time Stiles was pretty sure he wasn't imagining things.

"Is that even possible?" he asked nonetheless, "I mean, is it something you can stop? What if it happens when nobody's expecting it?"

Derek slowly turned his face towards him and gave him another long, pointed look.

"Okay, _okay_ , bad-ass big werewolf without the shining armor will keep the not-quite-damsel in distress out of harm's way, got it."

"Shut up." Derek turned away again, giving Stiles a perfect profile view.

Stiles grinned. Now this was territory he felt much better in. "Dude—have you met me?"

But before Derek could even so much as glare at him, which Stiles was honestly expecting, there was a loud knock on the window and Stiles almost jumped at the sudden noise. When Stiles turned towards the window, it turned out that the knocking was Scott's doing and his best friend was already letting himself in without further ado.

"Stiles!" he exclaimed happily when he jumped inside.

"Scott."

"You're okay," Scott pointed out the obvious.

"I'm okay."

"Stop repeating after me, dude." Scott flopped down on the bed on Stiles's other side and bumped their shoulders together briefly as a greeting, which Stiles returned.

"Stop stating the obvious, then?" Stiles said with a grin.

"Jerk," Scott said, which Stiles had expected. Then Scott pulled him into a tight, albeit brief hug. That, Stiles hadn't expected, although he probably should have. It wasn't like he didn't know why Scott was worried this much. It also wasn't that he didn't feel a small pang in his chest because of it. Sometimes he wished getting over this whole thing were easier. For all of them.

Scott took a cursory glance around the room. "So, where's the alp?"

"Didn't show up," Derek replied curtly. Scott's glance turned on Stiles as if to ask him to confirm that. Stiles nodded.

"Oh."

"Yeah. No nightmares, though," Stiles said, trying to lighten the mood a little.

"Do you think it knows? That we're trying to catch it?"

"Doubtful," Derek, once again, gave his short reply.

Stiles, however, wasn't so sure about that. "But couldn't it-"

"No."

"But how can y-"

"No."

"But what if-"

" _No_."

There was a quiet snicker coming from Scott's direction, and Stiles was so having none of that. "Stop grinning when I'm being interrupted!" he said without turning to Scott.

"You seem better," Scott said softly, still with a hint of amusement around the edges.

Stiles looked at him questioningly. "I do what?"

"Yeah," Scott said, "you also smell better - no offense."

"Huh?" Derek had said the same thing earlier, so Stiles cast him a frown. Well, he had said _different_ instead of _better_ , but Stiles guessed that was Derek-speak for the latter.

"Well... I did sleep really well..." Stiles replied absent-mindedly, pondering why his smell might have changed. Was it just because good sleep made you smell better in general or was it because the alp hadn't shown up?

"Spare me the details," Scott suddenly said, and Stiles did a double-take, trying to understand what Scott was trying to say, until he saw how Scott was looking between him and Derek.

"Wait - the hell are you thinking?" Stiles wanted to correct Scott, but then a sudden movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention and when he looked towards his desk, he shrieked and scrambled back.

A weird orange and black creature the size of a wolf stood huddled in-between his desk and the armchair next to it, staring at him out of its yellow-ish brown eyes, its trunk twitching slightly.

"Stiles? What's wrong?" Scott pressed, and wow, both Scott and Derek were standing in front of Stiles and the bed, backs towards him, guarding him. He hadn't even noticed them getting up and right there so quickly.

"Don't you see that... that _thing_ there?" Stiles still stared at the creature, and the creature stared back. Not even its trunk moved anymore. It stood perfectly still, eyes trained on Stiles. His heart thudded rapidly against his chest and he had to remind himself of breathing, because for a moment there, he had forgotten.

"What thing?" Scott asked, and even though Stiles couldn't see his face, he was sure Scott was roaming his eyes all over the room. Because apparently, neither Scott nor Derek could see the thing.

"That orange-black elephant thingy right next to my desk?!"

For some weird reason, maybe because that thing wasn't moving, Stiles calmed back down a bit, and slid forward until he stood between Scott and Derek. "Right there," he said and pointed where the creature stood, but when he quickly checked his friends, they both didn't seem to see anything.

"You don't see it," Stiles said. But if they didn't see it... then what did it say about him? A heavy feeling settled in his chest.

"I'm not going mad," he whispered, and two sets of eyes—Scott's alpha-red and Derek's electric blue ones—settled on him. To his surprise, the one who answered was neither Scott nor Derek but the creature staring at him.

"You are indeed not," it told him in an accent he couldn't quite place. But then again—did weird creatures even have any human accent?

"Guys, it just told me I'm not mad," Stiles reported back, feeling more weirded out by the minute. He didn't get any terribly bad vibes from that creature, so he did manage to calm down a little, but it was a creature he didn't know, for fuck's sake! He wouldn't feel at ease until he knew what the hell was happening and whether that creature was malevolent or not.

"So you have the power to see me," the creature said and shifted a little, its trunk swaying slightly. Its yellow-brown eyes still fixated on him. Thankfully, it stayed where it was.

"Uhm, yeah, I guess?"

"Stiles, are you talking to it?" Scott asked, still seemingly searching the room for anything out of the ordinary. He didn't seem like he didn't believe Stiles. It was like... like he could actually _sense_ something off. He just couldn't see. Now that Stiles looked at Derek, he saw the same there. His wolfed-out face was scrunched (though, admittedly, it was always scrunched) and he, instead of looking around, seemed to concentrate on his other senses.

"Tell your friends I will not harm any of you," the creature said. It sounded amused, which Stiles could totally _not_ understand, because what the hell, why should they all _not_ be suspicious when a creature suddenly appears?

"And why should we believe you?" Stiles countered, narrowing his eyes. He still stood half behind Scott and half behind Derek, looking at the creature from between them. Despite his friends not being able to see the creature, he still felt safer there than anywhere else at the moment.

"Because I've been here for a while, Stiles," it said, cocking its head to the side.

A shudder ran down Stiles's spine. "How do you know my name?" he asked, trying hard not to remember how the nogitsune had known as well. He heard how Scott let out a barely audible growl, probably because of Stiles's reaction. Derek took a small step backwards, closer towards Stiles. He really appreciated it.

"Of course I would know your name, young human. I ate your nightmare," it said, and for a moment, Stiles thought his face couldn't display more incredulity than he already did.

"What? You ate my nightmare?"

"Stiles? What are you talking about?" Scott interjected, but Stiles ignored him in favor of the conversation with that strange creature that claimed it had eaten his nightmare.

"That I did," it answered. "I am not an 'elephant thingy', Stiles. I am what you humans call baku."

"Baku? What's that?"

"Stiles?" This time it was Derek, and Stiles did realize that he needed to reply to them sometimes soon, or they'd probably think he had really gone mad.

"Yeah, it says it's a baku, whatever that is."

"I eat nightmares. I was asked to protect you, Stiles." This time, it actually took a step forward. Stiles, however, and to his own astonishment, didn't mind. He actually got a pretty nice feeling from the baku suddenly. As if the closer it got, the nicer he made him feel.

"You were asked to protect me? By whom?" Because Stiles surely didn't remember anyone asking to protect him. Sure, his dad might have, or Scott, or any of his pack, but they surely wouldn't ask a so-called baku, let alone know what it was?

"You should be acquainted with the kitsune Noshiko. Though I guess she is so no longer, as now her daughter, Kira, took her place."

"The charm," Stiles whispered, remembering the red cloth with golden signs. Kira had gotten that thing from her mother. Her mother who knew all sorts of stuff about these things, probably. She had apparently asked this creature to eat Stiles's nightmares. Which still went beyond his head.

"What charm, Stiles?" Scott asked again, and this time, Stiles actually turned to him.

"You can turn your wolves off, it won't do anything bad," Stiles said and plopped back down on his bed. He let out a long sigh, and only when he was finished with that, did Scott and Derek actually morph back into humans. Their reluctance was kind of cute.

Derek threw him a questioning look and didn't even have to voice his question for Stiles to understand. "Remember Kira giving me that charm? Yeah, that's where the baku came from. Apparently, it eats my nightmares. Riddle solved." Stiles grinned at them. It was nice having an explanation. One that didn't involve the alp. One that didn't mean he was really done for this time.

"I did not only eat your nightmare, Stiles. I saw the creature trying to suck the energy out of you," it informed him, and immediately, his grin disappeared.

"So the alp was here?"

"What?" Scott hissed as he plopped down beside him, but Stiles ignored him again.

"It was, indeed. I scared it off. It is a weak creature compared to me," it said, and wow. That actually did reassure Stiles. They actually had a strong creature on their side. How awesome was that?

"So you scared the alp off and then ate my nightmare?"

"Correct."

"It really unnerves me that I can't see it, you know," Scott told him suddenly and put his hand on Stiles's shoulder. Stiles guessed it was only fair for him to still be worried. Stiles would be freaked out of his mind if this sort of thing happened to Scott and Stiles were the one unable to see.

"Trust me, it's unnerving enough to be the only one able to see it," Stiles replied. Because it was. Still. And it still reminded him all too much of the nogitsune. He had, for the longest time, been the only one the nogitsune had shown itself to. And what came after, seeing a mirror image of himself fall into dust... Stiles didn't want to remember that. He briefly caught Derek's glance before the baku spoke again.

"You have very powerful dreams, Stiles," the baku said. Its bright eyes seemed to pierce him, and yet Stiles didn't feel uncomfortable with that stare. Maybe because it was so very different from the nogitsune that it actually calmed him a little for that reason. Stiles didn't really know what to say to that, though. It was true, of course. He knew his dreams sometimes were intensely terrifying. He was the one having them, after all. And with his luck, he was probably the reason the alp came to Beacon Hills in the first place.

"The creature will return," it continued.

Stiles repeated that to Scott and Derek, because that, at least, was information they needed to know.

"Can you ask the- uh, baku, to stay away for a night so we can catch it?" Scott asked.

"He can hear you, you know." Stiles turned towards the baku, but the creature only shook its head.

"I am afraid it is not possible," it said. Stiles only now noticed that it hadn't blinked even once during their whole conversation. Must be a thing for creatures that ate nightmares. Then it registered what the baku had said.

"Wait, you won't? But how will we catch it?"

"My duty is to protect you, Stiles. It is not to catch the evil creature."

Stiles exchanged glances with Scott and Derek, who both looked at him expectantly. Great. They had a strong creature on their side that wouldn't help them. Stiles didn't know how to convince it—actually, he was pretty sure that nothing short of Stiles throwing himself at the alp would convince it—but they still had to catch that alp, or it would go out and kill people again.

He sighed. "Well, can you help in any other way? Like, sniff out where the alp hides or something?"

Stiles thought the baku was looking at him like he had lost it, or maybe it was looking at him normally and Stiles simply interpreted that stare like that because he realized himself that it was a really stupid thing to say. Dogs were good at sniffing. He had no idea if elephants were good at it. Probably not that much.

"I cannot 'sniff it out'," the baku said—it sounded a tiny bit amused. At least that's what Stiles hoped, because an amused strong creature on their side would be better than an annoyed one. "But I can tell you where the baku will likely appear this night."

"Really? Where?"

The baku's trunk twitched and it made a brief pause before answering. "At your friend's, Allison's place."

 

* * *

 

They stood on the porch to the Argent's house and Stiles was still freaked out about the baku having gone with them. The creature had said it would take a seat on top and Stiles had been able to hear it. Stiles had also sometimes been able to see the trunk dangling across the windshield. He had almost freaked once because he thought he had missed a car pulling out. Thankfully, that had not been the case. But it had made Stiles more agitated than he needed to be.

Because here he was now, standing in front of the door and waiting for Mr. Argent or Allison to open the door. He hoped it'd be Allison. He didn't need a heart attack at eighteen. But he couldn't really count on his luck, since experience had shown that his luck's most outstanding feature was its absence.

As if to prove him right, Mr. Argent appeared in the door and for a moment, Stiles's mind was blank. Completely void of anything. His mouth, however, seemed to be working just fine, only not very cooperatively.

"Er," he stammered, still looking at Mr. Argent like a deer caught in the headlights. "Hi."

Mr. Argent arched a brow, gave Derek a curt nod and acknowledged Scott with a simple glance, and stepped back to let them in. "Any luck with the alp?" he asked, ignoring Stiles's lack of eloquence. Not that Stiles was complaining.

"No, we have a problem," Scott contributed unhelpfully and pushed past him to hurry up the stairs, probably to Allison's room. Stiles could hear how they bumped into each other, Allison's brief laughter that she cut short, probably because Scott didn't laugh. They both appeared on the stairs a moment later, looking down at them.

Mr. Argent looked towards Derek for clarification. Why he expected broody silentwolf to speak whole sentences in explanation was beyond Stiles, so he took it upon himself. Maybe it'd postpone him having to really face the man.

"To sum it up: I played bait, the alp didn't show up, but another creature did, which calls itself a baku. That baku says it's his duty to protect me and he won't let me play bait again. But," he paused and bit his lower lip, because it once again felt like what he was about to say was his fault. "But, he says he knows where the alp will strike this time."

He turned towards the stairs, looked Allison in the eye. "And that's... well, here. It's Allison."

When he glanced back, Mr. Argent's face became blank, unreadable, and Stiles shrank back barely noticeably. To be honest, he was terrified of the man, even though now Stiles knew that the man was nothing like his father and wouldn't go against his own code. The one Allison changed and the one she was determined to live by, and determined to have her father live by. So Stiles steeled himself and looked Mr. Argent in the eye, despite his unease and despite his terror.

"How do we stop it?" Mr. Argent's tone of voice was pressing, it brooked no excuses, and he was still staring at Stiles. Were he a werewolf, he'd be able to hear Stiles's frantic heartbeat going through the roof. There were two other werewolves who could, though, and Derek's hand suddenly on his shoulder seemed to help more than Stiles wanted to admit.

"We have a plan," he said, not averting his eyes. He had a feeling it was crucial to keep the eye contact now. Because this time, at least, their risk to fail was as slim as it could get. "And if the plan fails, we have the baku."

Mr. Argent's face remained blank, and his brows rose slightly, definitely in doubt, and Stiles felt cold dread slowly take hold of him, despite his conviction. Because Allison was right there, only a few steps away, and Stiles was once again at the center of the whole clusterfuck. Only that this time, he didn't want to be the reason Allison had to suffer, and he wouldn't let it happen. Not again.

"The baku is more powerful than the alp. It scared the alp away last night, and it can do so again if we can't catch it, right?" Stiles turned towards the baku for the first time since they entered the Argents' house. It stood quietly at the end of the hall, a few steps away from them all. Its trunk twitched when Stiles called it.

"If that will help keeping you safe, Stiles, I will help you."

"It says yes," Stiles told them. Which, however, had the exact opposite effect on both Mr. Argent and Allison, who both instead of looking more reassured, kept looking around their house, wide-eyed.

"What? Where is it?", Allison asked, her eyes still searching. Mr. Argent's face was scrunched, but then he turned back to Stiles and regarded him like he'd lost his mind.

Stiles groaned. "God, I don't have the patience to explain this. I'm not mad, okay?"

"Yeah, he's not," Scott confirmed, and managed to make it sound even less convincing than it already was before. Stiles really felt the need to facepalm, but he restrained himself. Why again was he the one to explain this shit?

"It's Kira's amulet," Scott tried to help.

"Charm," Derek corrected, and wow, that was his first spoken word, wasn't it? He still had his hand on Stiles's shoulder, so Stiles was kind of more than willing to let that slide.

"Kira should be here any minute now," Scott supplied then, his voice going up at the end, as if it was more something he hoped for than was sure about.

Mr. Argent arched his brow again, looking even more incredulous than before.

"She gave me a charm, and apparently, the baku was... 'attached' to this charm, and he claims his duty is to protect me."

"What is that baku?" Allison asked, sounding confused. She and Scott didn't look like they would be moving down the stairs any time soon. Which was probably a good idea, because Mr. Argent didn't exactly look like he'd let Stiles get any closer to his only daughter. All that explaining apparently hadn't convinced him that Stiles hadn't lost his shit. Again.

"I have no idea, okay? It looks like an elephant-lion hybrid-experiment—sorry, no offense, baku—and apparently, it can eat nightmares and scare off alps."

At this, Mr. Argent's expression finally changed into a pensive one. "I think I might have seen... a sculpture like that," he said and finally—finally—his features relaxed and Stiles felt a tiny little bit less intimidated than before.

"Why are you the only one able to see it?"

"That's probably because of the nogitsune," Kira suddenly said and Stiles almost jumped out of his skin because he absolutely had not sensed her coming. "Sorry," she commented shyly when she noticed she had startled him.

Everyone around him suddenly seemed a lot tenser than just a second ago. And Stiles... well, Stiles understood why, but when he let his gaze wander over Allison and she returned it, he thought that maybe it was time to move on. Because it was really fucking ridiculous for a simple mention of the nogitsune to make _everyone_ feel uncomfortable. It was not friggin' Voldemort.(Though, to be honest, it was a lot scarier, and Stiles would never forget how this evil version of himself had been coming at him and Lydia, yelling in the most grotesque and terrifying manner.)

"No, it's fine. What's the nogitsune got to do with the baku?"

"It left you the ability to see us youkai," the baku answered.

"Exactly," Kira agreed, and Stiles blinked at her.

"You can see him?"

"Well, yeah—oh, right! Sorry! I forgot not everyone could! It's because I'm a kitsune... my mum told me that's why we can see them." Kira blushed a little and threw a very quick glance over at Scott before turning it on the floor, obviously feeling uncomfortable in her own skin. Stiles could relate, though probably not for the same reasons.

"So what's the nogitsune got to do with it?" Scott repeated this time, and Stiles remembered that they hadn't heard the explanation because he—and apparently Kira—were the only ones who were able to hear it. So he repeated it to them. Everyone actually calmed down a little. Stiles wasn't sure whether that was because it didn't mean there were still new repercussions from the nogitsune to deal with or because Stiles seemed to be calm about it. Maybe it was a little bit of both. It was definitely better than ignoring it further and continuing the tension.

Mr. Argent's gaze met Stiles's again, which stirred him into motion. "The baku will help us, so in the unlikely case that something happens, we still have a very effective plan B, which is kind of a first for us and I definitely hope it'll become a pattern."

"Okay," Mr. Argent finally said, "but I'll be present as well."

For a moment Stiles couldn't believe what he was hearing. It was like Mr. Argent had started to trust them. Well, at least a little. It was a start. And as much as he didn't want to subject Allison to this, they needed to get rid of that thing, and they didn't really have much of a choice.

"Great," Stiles said, and ignored the sudden uneasiness that started in his stomach, because he definitely didn't want to be thinking about how this was too easy for what they had experienced until now.

 

* * *

 

To say it felt weird to wait in Allison's room with his friends while she slept was an understatement. Lydia had come over as well as Malia and Isaac. Stiles was glad for the reinforcements, even though it meant it got a little cramped. Scott had sat down on Allison's bed and taken her hand in his, stroking it gently from time to time. It was so sickeningly sweet and felt kind of intimate, so Stiles had to look away. Mr. Argent seemed okay with that, though, because he kept on watching them from in front of the window.

Stiles also didn't know if he should be glad or not about the cramped-ness, because it apparently meant that Derek came to stand next to Stiles, who was standing next to the door. Their shoulders were touching, too. It was weird in the presence of everyone else, though Lydia kept giving him those _glances_ and even Malia seemed to notice and be a slightly bit confused by it. Stiles chose to ignore it.

The baku stood close to Stiles, and just like back in his room, it made him feel much better, though it still couldn't quench the uneasiness from before.

For a long time, nothing happened, and Stiles could feel himself growing tired and losing focus, until Derek bumped his shoulder against Stiles's and he noticed how all the werewolves in the room started to become a little nervous, apparently sensing something coming. Split-seconds later Allison started to scrunch up her face and moan, and that was the cue.

Stiles quickly put a cloth into the key hole, the only entrance left for the alp. Then shit hit the fan.

Scott called Allison's name and immediately lunged for the alp when it appeared on top of Allison. The alp looked like a normal person, although its face was disturbingly distorted, as if it hadn't had the time to model a proper human face. This unhuman-ness was probably the reason Scott didn't seem to hold back. He managed to fling the alp to the floor, but when he wanted to grab it again, it slipped away from under him and made right for the door—right at Stiles, who stood in front of it. Of course, as it always is, Stiles didn't even think of getting out of the way. Instead, he tried to grab the alp himself.

He should have known it would only end in disaster. Right before the expected impact with the alp, time seemed to slow down, and Stiles saw something like recognition in the alp's black eyes, shortly before it bared its sharp teeth in a grotesque grin.

Then it stretched out its hands and should have hit Stiles's chest—only that the hands disappeared inside it, and at first Stiles thought the alp went right through him. He hadn't anticipated the impact that followed. Something invisible hit his chest and it felt like being hit by a train. Then his vision went black.

 

Grey fog surrounded Stiles and darkness swallowed everything else. It felt so familiar that Stiles's hairs stood on end. His chest hurt as if someone had sunk a knife in his heart and his body felt paralyzed, completely immobile.

_You shouldn't have tried to stop me_ , Stiles, a familiar drawl sounded from inside his head again and a chill seeped through his body right down to his very bones. Stiles's whole body started to shiver violently, teeth clattering and his vision jumping erratically from the movement.

You're not real, Stiles tried to say, recognizing his situation as a dream. He believed it, at least. Even though the cold hurt in the same way it would in reality, he knew exactly how an illusion could imitate that, and imitate it with frightening detail. He hadn't forgotten the wintery illusion the nogitsune had created, and right now he was reminded of that more than ever.

_Are you sure?_ , the voice asked, sounding amused but a little less like the nogitsune, and a little more husky and screechy. But then the cold intensified and his skin burned as if it was on fire. Stiles cried out and fell to his knees, pulling his arms around himself, desperately trying to rub some warmth into it, but failing miserably. It hurt. It hurt so much that he thought he'd pass out, but how can you pass out in a dream when you are already unconscious in reality?

_I can make this a lot harder, Stiles_ , the voice said, a tinge of amusement dripping off its words. Stiles hunched over, his forehead hitting the ground, but the pain of that impact barely registered when all his skin burned like hellfire.

It's just a dream it's just a dream it's just a dream

_This is not an ordinary dream, Stiles_ , the voice said, coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. _The pain is real_.

He was about to give in and give up when he couldn't distinguish where his body began and ended anymore, but then the pain suddenly dulled and, slowly, faded, until he could think clearly again. He could also sense confusion, probably from the alp, although he himself had enough to be confused about. But then it dawned on him.

The werewolf pain-draining ability surely was convenient in times like this.

Stiles raised his head and pushed himself up a little, grinning. If the pain was real, then his friends were able to drain it, too. He only wished he could see that damn alp. Glaring at the fog, he willed it to dissipate—and to his utter astonishment, it did. The fog disappeared into nothingness and the darkness lightened, until he could see a human-like creature with a distorted face standing in front of him, wide black eyes staring at him.

"I win," Stiles finally managed to say, before he all but jumped right into the alp and punched it in the face.

 

Stiles blinked and looked right into Derek's upside-down face, hovering close before him. He could hear frantic shuffling somewhere beside him and a screechy voice wailing, but right now, he felt really confused about his surroundings and position. Had the dream ended?

"Stiles?" Scott's face appeared in his vision as well, right side up, though. His brows were creased worriedly.

"Scott," Stiles replied. "What the fuck happened?"

Derek growled lowly and Stiles focused his gaze back on Derek. He also noticed someone—Derek—was holding him from behind and that he was half-lying on the floor rather uncomfortably, so he shifted and sat up. Which had the added bonus of seeing Derek's face the right side up as well. Derek's arm stayed around Stiles's back, though, which he definitely didn't mind at all, even though it was a rather awkward half-embrace.

"The alp disappeared inside you. You fainted."

Stiles blinked, and when Derek didn't explain further, he looked at Scott for clarification.

"Dude, you almost dramatically fell to the ground and then you started screaming. It was awful. But then we drained your pain and you seemed to calm down, and you murmured something about that you won. Then you almost punched Derek in the face and the alp suddenly jumped out of you and wanted to make a run for the door again, but..." Scott drifted off and nodded towards Stiles's left, where Stiles spotted the baku holding the alp with it's trunk. The alp struggled and screeched, but didn't even make the baku blink. It had to look hilarious and weird to the others, who couldn't see the baku, and Stiles almost chuckled out loud.

"Well, I guess our mission was successful then?" Stiles said and surveyed the rest of the room. Allison had apparently managed to get up and come to kneel beside Scott while Stiles had that crazy dream. Mr. Argent stood behind her and was still holding onto Lydia and Malia, who had both probably tried to come to Stiles's rescue as well. Nice. Only Isaac looked bored as ever, leaning against the bedpost with his arms crossed. Kira was eying the baku as if she feared he would do something weird.

"Sorry for almost punching you," he added when he locked his gaze with Derek's again, who actually gave him a tiny lopsided smile, but then frowned again.

"Going against the alp was not a smart decision," Derek said and from the corner of his eyes, Stiles could see Scott nodding in agreement.

"It worked out in the end, though." Stiles looked over at the alp again. "And you caught that thing after all."

The baku seemed to be amused, though Stiles still wasn't sure if he could actually read that creature's body language correctly. "I changed my opinion after it attacked you before I could intervene."

So a baku was not above revenge. Stiles began to like that creature.

"So, uh, what are we gonna do with it now?" Stiles asked, but before anyone could reply to that, the baku started to move. It opened its mouth, revealing a rather gigantic tongue, and sucked the alp in, to which Kira gasped and everyone else looked confused. It should have been impossible for the baku to suck in a human sized creature like the alp, but the alp's whole body just distorted as if it was actually formless, and then disappeared inside the baku.

For a few moments, nobody said a word.

"Well, that sure solves our problem," Stiles finally announced, hoping it would break the shocked silence. "Did you just really... eat the alp?"

The baku seemed to wink at him. "It consists of nightmares. It was no trouble for me to eat it."

Kira actually chuckled at that, then looked up at the others when nobody else reacted, and relayed what the baku had said.

"So... what now? Is the baku staying?" Scott piped up before getting up and helping Allison to her feet, putting his arm around her waist casually, the lovesick puppy.

"My duty to protect you was effective as long as the alp threatened your life, Stiles. I am no longer obligated to stay," the baku said and its trunk swayed a little from side to side. It looked kind of cute.

"So you're leaving?"

"I am. However, I am going to stay near, and should you need my assistance, you can call for me."

"Uh, thanks, I guess?" Stiles managed to say before the baku just took off through the closed window. It went right through it without disturbing anything. Kind of like a ghost. Only that it could fight supernatural creatures.

Yeah, Stiles definitely had started to like that creature. A powerful creature-ally was always a good addition to their team.

"The baku's gone, guys," Stiles said and just leaned back into Derek's arm, hoping he wouldn't mind. Now that the danger was gone and Stiles had time to calm his nerves, he realized how heavy he actually felt. God, he was _exhausted_. "I'm beat. I think I need two weeks worth of sleep."

He got collective relieved groans and agreement in reply. When they gathered around the living room to calm down before heading home and Stiles was squeezed in between Derek and Scott on the couch, he thought he might fall asleep right then and there. His head kept falling on Derek's shoulder, and when it happened for the third time, Derek offered to bring him home. What could Stiles say? Of course he agreed. When they walked out the door, Mr. Argent even gave them a tiny smile, and for the first time since the nogitsune, Stiles didn't feel the crushing guilt drag him down when he looked at the man.

They left with Stiles half asleep and Derek having to half-carry him.

 

* * *

 

Over the past few days, Stiles should really have got used to it. But when he was finally in his room and let himself fall on his bed, a knock against his window almost sent him to the floor once again.

"Derek?" Stiles pushed himself off the bed and walked over to open his window. He had wanted to ask Derek to come in for a bit in order to confess, but on second thought, he had felt much too tired for anything and wanted to leave things that changed situations significantly for a time when he was more alert. So he hadn't. And he hadn't really expected Derek to visit him after it had seemed like he was leaving.

He was surprised, but he really didn't mind this turn of events at all.

Derek jumped in elegantly. "Stiles," he said in greeting, then walked a few steps into the room and turned towards Stiles. Who kept standing at the window, more than a little confused.

"You seemed nervous earlier," Derek said when Stiles didn't talk or move at all. And it hit Stiles right in the heart, because wow, that was... _what_ exactly was that?

"Uh," Stiles said, cursing his tiredness which he blamed for this lack of eloquence right now, and then took a few steps towards Derek. Only that he had miscalculated the distance and ended up much closer to Derek than he had intended. His feet almost touched Derek's, was how close they stood. He was aware that Derek probably only checked up on him because he was worried—which gave Stiles all kinds of fluttery feelings already—but with how the situation had turned out now, Stiles could as well just confess. Despite being tired, the mood was just right, or so he thought. Still, he avoided Derek's eyes and looked at his chin instead, trying hard not to imagine the scrubby beard against his own skin.

"Yeah, I guess I was kinda nervous? You needn't worry, though, it's nothing to worry about... well, maybe? Because I get the feeling that..." Stiles started and noticed himself how incoherent it sounded split-seconds before Derek interrupted him.

"Stiles, you're not making sense."

"Right. Let me try again," Stiles said. Cleared his throat. Then looked into Derek's very green eyes looking back at him unblinkingly. The air around them suddenly seemed to heat up and Stiles felt his palms sweat. It was a good kind of feeling, though.

"I, uh, would really like to kiss you right now." Okay, that was not what Stiles had originally wanted to say, although it was what he had thought. Derek's face didn't scrunch up in anger, though, so he supposed it was all right. Especially when Derek's eyes darkened and he leaned down and even closer to Stiles.

"That can be arranged," Derek whispered against his mouth, but didn't do anything afterward, just seemed to wait for something.

Stiles grinned when his tired brain caught up with what Derek had just said, and how fucking close his face was, just inches from Stiles's own. He inched in—because that's all the distance there was—and kissed Derek. Slow and sweet at first, until Derek put his arms around him and Stiles pushed his hand up in Derek's hair and held on to his shoulder with the other. He licked into Derek's mouth, tasting him. Their chests moving against each other would have been hot if Stiles didn't feel so tired.

Derek seemed to catch up on that and pulled back, letting Stiles's head drop forward and against his shoulder. Stiles's eyes felt leaden and he couldn't muster up the energy to open them. It was a good thing Derek held him up, or he was pretty sure he would have slumped to the floor.

"Can we talk tomorrow when I'm not falling asleep on you?" Stiles mumbled against Derek's shoulder and he got a grunt in reply. It sounded like a 'yes' to Stiles. Then Derek moved and dragged Stiles with him, until he let Stiles drop, right on his bed. Stiles cracked open one eye in time to see Derek looking like he was about to leave for the window, but Stiles wouldn't have any of that gentleman crap right now, especially because he would feel a hell of a lot safer with someone there—especially with Derek. So he quickly grabbed for Derek's hand, though in his befuddled state, he missed and got the hem of Derek's jacket.

"Stay," he said, but didn't really expect Derek to take him up on it, since it was _Derek_ , "please."

To his surprise, Derek didn't even groan or roll his eyes when he turned back towards Stiles, got rid of his jacket, and climbed into Stiles's bed, pulling Stiles into his chest. Stiles snuggled up to him, feeling lots of corny feelings that would normally embarrass the hell out of him, but he ignored it because it was the most comfortable he had felt in weeks. Months. Maybe even years.

That night, Stiles didn't have a single nightmare.

 

_Looking back I see I had the flame in me_   
_I'm the wind that's carrying change_   
_I've had enough of chasing luck_   
_I need, I need a change_   
_(Christina Perri - Burning Gold)_


End file.
